Chances Are
by The Batchild
Summary: Being rewritten and combined with fic for Batman Begins and The Dark Knight Rises. It will be posted soon, under the title "In the Shadow of The Bat."
1. Chapter One: The Birth of Bat Central

I do not own **Batman**. Sucks, don't it? I do own Eleanor Black and all the other characters and plot points that aren't part of the movie. Rated T for the same reasons the movie was rated PG-13. Enjoy.

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**Chances Are…  
**Chapter One: The Birth Of Bat Central

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**Beginning Author's Note… **THIS IS A TEASER CHAPTER. Meaning you're going to have to wait a while for the next chapter, because I'm going to finish my other Batman fic first. I just thought I'd give you all a taste.

So this is technically a sequel to Superhero's Confidante, but if you haven't read that story, don't worry about it, because it's not that good and it's not worth reading. Plus, there's nothing in the fic that you need to know in order to read this one. This fic follows **The Dark Knight. **And FYI, I'm still working on writing in first person, so any pointers any one has would be well received by me. Thanks, and enjoy the story.

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The last little while has been hectic.

It's been a good hectic, though. You know, the kind of hectic that keeps you so busy you can't think of anything else except what you're doing at that moment.

What was floating around my head that I didn't want to think about?

Well, the fact that, those few months ago, I had found out Bruce Wayne was Batman. And I had told the billionaire that I loved him. I knew I had caught him off guard when I'd told him, and because of the embarrassment stemming from that, I blushed whenever he looked at me and this weird excited-nervous-electric feeling shot through me whenever he touched me or smiled at me. I felt like a teenager again, and I hated that. But my exposed feelings hadn't changed the way he acted around me or towards me or anything, I just saw everything differently. I just didn't want to think about how _nothing _had changed for him, or hadn't seemed to anyway. I wasn't delusional or anything; I didn't expect him to love me back, and I hadn't when I'd told him. But nothing had changed. We had been and still were friends. He still loved Rachel Dawes, and I still hated her. I wanted Bruce to show some recognition to what I'd expressed. But, I'd deal with it. I'd dealt with it so far, hadn't I?

And it hadn't been easy.

Bruce had been living at my parent's house while he and Alfred waited for the Wayne Penthouse in midtown Gotham to be cleaned and made ready for them to move into. So, I'd been in pretty close proximity for about two weeks, but I thought I'd handled that situation with particularly impressive indifference to the nervous knot in my gut. I hadn't exactly been devastated when it came time to start moving Bruce into his temporary home. What little normal stuff had been stored in the Batcave, and all the new stuff he bought, was moved into the penthouse and the more abnormal stuff (a.k.a. Batman's stuff) had been moved somewhere. I didn't know where because Bruce and Alfred moved it all at night when I was asleep, so none of the citizens of Gotham would see. When I asked Bruce where all the super high-tech gizmos had gone, all he said was: "Storage."

"Well… OK." I flopped down on the massive king-sized bed in the bedroom area of the loft and stared at the incredibly high ceiling. "Where are you and Alfred going to do all the analyzing and crap from?"

Bruce looked up at me from the rushing city street storeys below and shrugged.

I groaned loudly and pushed myself off the way-too-comfortable-to-be-real bed and stomped downstairs – what kind of apartment has two floors? – to where Alfred was preparing a quick dinner for myself, my parents, Bruce and him. And probably Rachel. She had helped unpack the new things that had arrived that afternoon, but she had only been able to help during her lunch break. I couldn't say I was sorry when she had to go back to the district attorney's office, but, if I remembered correctly, she'd said she'd try and be back to help later.

Rachel and I had never been, and still weren't, friends. I hated her because Bruce loved her, and I was pretty sure everyone knew it. I certainly wasn't ashamed of that. Of course, I hadn't always hated her for that reason. When we were growing up, we just couldn't agree on anything, and we were always finding reasons to verbally abuse each other and argue. We still found reasons to verbally abuse each other, but I liked to think we were a little more mature now. Most of the time. Rachel hated the fact I had found out Bruce was Batman before she did, and she didn't like that I was more involved with the Batman side of Bruce. (Was it _my _fault I liked Batman and I wasn't trying to get Bruce to _stop _doing his vigilante thing?) Since the two of us were evidently going to be seeing a lot more of each other, Bruce wanted Rachel and me to try and get along better, if we couldn't be friends, but it just really wasn't happening. And it wasn't just my fault. Neither Rachel or I _wanted _to get along better. We didn't want to have to spend time together, just because we were both close to Bruce. Needless to say, things had been kind of tense between Bruce and me, whenever Rachel came up in conversation, because he thought I wasn't trying hard enough (and that was probably the truth). He was also bitter because Rachel wasn't around as much as he would have liked her to be, and she wasn't with him.

She had started dating the new district attorney, Harvey Dent.

Again, I couldn't say that didn't make me happy, but it made Bruce miserable. Although, he would never admit it. I didn't like seeing him miserable.

"What can I do for you, Miss Black?" Alfred asked, stirring a pot of what smelled like and looked like beef stew.

I waited for my stomach to finish growling, and then smiled at the butler. "Call me Eleanor, please, and nothing. I just wanted to come down and see if I could help."

"I don't require any assistance, Miss Black. Maybe your parents would like some help organizing the bookshelves. Or whatever it was they were doing, exactly. The books looked plenty organized to me."

I chuckled and leaned backwards against the countertop. "My Mom likes books to be organized _alphabetically_ and by _author._ She's real picky like that. You should have seen what she did to my father's medical books in his office at home. He couldn't find anything. So, she's not allowed in there anymore." I smiled and plucked a piece of bread out of the basket on the counter beside me. "But I'll go see if they need any help." I fixed my cobalt eyes on Alfred and pointed my index finger at him, the slice of bread clutched in the same hand. "And call me Eleanor."

"Of course."

I smiled again and walked from the kitchen to where the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stood, at the other end of the ridiculously long room. My Mom was hanging off a ladder, organizing the very top shelf, while my father stood underneath her, watching with his hands on his hips. They were arguing playfully, like they usually did, large smiles on both their faces. Nibbling my carb-o-licious snack, I approached my father, Liam Black, and took a place standing beside him.

"Need any help out here?"

"I don't think so," Liam breathed, running his fingers back through his black hair. He turned his head and smiled widely at me, his blue-green eyes sparkling.

I didn't have any colouring from my parents, but that's because they adopted me when I was a newborn. My birth mother had been raped and I was the result. Or, that's what Liam figured anyway, seeing as he found me in an alleyway, in a pool of blood and crying my little head off. If Liam hadn't found me then, I would have died. I owned them everything, but they never asked me for anything beyond normal family things. I couldn't ask for better parents, and I was proud to have the last name of Black and to be named after Liam's mother and sister, both of whom had died in a robbery gone bad. Eleanor and Alexandra. Eleanor Alexandra Black. That was me.

"No honey, we're fine!" my mother yelled down from her perch on the ladder, some strands of her rich red hair flying free. "Why don't you go off and help Bruce?" Her innocent smile was anything but.

Naomi had this dream that I would be Mrs. Bruce Wayne one day. That would be _nice_, but I was pretty confident it would never happen. I was pretty confident Bruce wouldn't marry anyone, even Rachel. (Unless he listened to her and stopped being Batman some day and she kept her promise that she'd wait for him.) Just one of the many sacrifices he'd made when he created Batman. Of course, maybe there would come a day when he could hang up the cape and cowl and settle down. Maybe then… Nah.

Musn't get your hopes up, Ellie. You'll just regret it later.

I shrugged, finished my bread, and headed back into the kitchen, just as the elevator dinged and Rachel stepped out, onto the tiled floor of the gargantuan loft-style penthouse. Whatever Bruce wanted to call it.

"Hello Rachel," I mumbled, sliding into the other room and onto the countertop.

She only replied with a nod of her head and then headed upstairs.

"You and Miss Dawes seemed to have reached a place of pacified anger. No more tackling each other to the ground, I trust?"

"Not making any promises Alfred, but I'll try."

"That's all we can ask, Miss Black." Alfred pulled the soup pot off the stove and my stomach grumbled loudly again. "Supper's ready, if you care to inform everyone?" He swept out of the kitchen to the dining table, which was, with only one spoon, a plate and a bowl, set very informally for Alfred.

I nodded, hopped off the counter and stuck my head into the living room. "SUPPER!" I yelled as loud as I could. I hoped my voice carried upstairs or my parents' delivered the message, because I wasn't going up. If I could avoid seeing Rachel and Bruce around each other, I would. That was one way I kept myself from being a bitch to her. I turned and headed to the table, where I took a seat at the end of the far side of the table and immediately started spooning great gobs of the thick and delicious-smelling stew into my bowl. I found the dish far too small. Oh well. I always had room for seconds.

"It would polite if you waited for everyone to take their seats," Alfred said from the doorway.

I rolled my eyes and sat back in my chair. Alfred had this unrivalled talent for making grown people feel like little kids again. I had to smile a little bit, and Alfred returned the gesture and then chuckled softly as my stomach grumbled again. It was only about half a minute before the others started filing in and taking their seats. Bruce sat at the head of the table to my right and my mother sat on my left. Rachel sat on Bruce's other side, directly across form me and my Dad took the other end of the table. Of course Alfred sat closest to the kitchen, ready to get up at a moment's notice and get anything for anyone.

There was idle chatter over diner, you know: "How are things going?", "Are you sure you're going to be OK in this big place all by yourself, Bruce?", "How's work been, Rachel?", "How are things with Harvey?"… All that small talk everyone would rather skip but they do it anyway. I didn't contribute much – I was too involved in my second bowl of stew and my, oh, forth piece of bread? My food was where I kept my eyes too. To avoid any dirty looks I felt like giving Rachel. Bruce seemed to do the same whenever the conversation turned to Harvey. Not that my parents knew about the love… triangle or square or whatever it was, they were just curious about Gotham's new district attorney, and when you were sitting with his girlfriend (and you were my perpetually curious mother) you asked questions. A lot of questions.

After dinner, I was the first to leave the penthouse. I had to get home to walk my dog. Blaze would be jumping and barking at the door by now. I said goodbye to everyone and promised my parents I'd call them soon before stepping into the elevator and taking the long ride down to the private level of the parking garage reserved for the penthouse occupants. It was an uninterrupted ride though. Private elevators and all that. The drive back to my house took only fifteen minutes, since the evening rush hour was passed.

I was right about Blaze; his barks met me in the hallway and the big red Husky nearly tackled me to the ground when I opened the door. "Sit," I said. Blaze obediently sat in front of me, his pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. "Just a quick walk, all right?" He barked, and I took that for an OK. "Good boy." I scratched behind his ear and headed into my room to change.

* * *

Three knocks in quick succession brought me out of my sleep. I rolled over and looked at the clock. 1:53 am. Mumbling curses, I untangled myself from the covers, straightened my pyjama pants and walked over the window; the only person who would be calling on me this late didn't use doors. I lifted the window open and stepped aside to let the moving shadow and the chilly night air in.

"What can I do for you at this ungodly hour?" I asked through a yawn. A stray breeze made the legs of my pyjama pants flap wildly. I spit hair out of my mouth.

"I need you to come to that old train yard I showed you last week later this morning," Batman growled. The change in voice helped protect his identity, although with the costume on, I doubted anyone would recognize him. I hadn't.

"Why?" I rubbed at my eyes, trying to clear that just-woke-up blurriness from my eyes. Not that I could see him any clearer or anything. He was standing amidst the shadows, he was damn near invisible. "Nah, you won't tell me. You would have told me already if you were planning on it at all." I subconsciously put a hand on his shoulder as I walked past him to my bed. "I'll see you tomorrow," I mumbled as I burrowed my way back under the covers. I barely heard the whisper of his cape as he vanished out the window.

* * *

The alarm went off at six. A truly heinous hour for a Sunday morning. I rolled out of bed and walked straight into my closet. Jeans, a massive old t-shirt with a hole on one shoulder and flip flops. Classy. I brushed my hair, my teeth and washed my face and then I grabbed my overly large purse, attached Blaze's leash and headed down to my car.

I hated getting up early, and losing about an hour of sleep didn't help anything, least of all my mood. It always takes me a while to get back to sleep after been woken up. I wasn't mad at Bruce though. There wouldn't be any point in getting mad at him. If he hadn't come to my apartment, he would have phoned me. He couldn't have told me to come to the train yard at the apartment, because he couldn't risk anyone overhearing. My parents – my mother – would have wondered what he was talking about and would have bugged him until she found out. Bruce could have lied, but my Mom could always spot when I was fibbing. Sacrificing sleep was just part of being friends with Batman, a nocturnal vigilante. I also wasn't mad at him for being vague about why he wanted me at the train yard. _That _was just Bruce.

I stopped at some fast food restaurant to grab some greasy breakfast sandwich and a cup of lukewarm coffee, but it served. I'm not very good at driving with one hand and eating with the other, so I put the bag on the console in the middle of the front seat, told my dog not to eat it and stuck the coffee cup in the cup holder that wasn't holding my spare change. Blaze barked cheerfully and stuck his head back out the window, his ears and tongue blowing backwards in the wind. He snapped at bugs invisible to my eyes and barked at any other dogs we passed.

The train yard was in downtown Gotham, near the shipping yard and the docks. The only things in the yard beside a vast expanse of dirt and sparse smatterings of weeds, was a half-finished structure of some kind and a shipping container with flaking red paint. I got there by following the route Bruce had shown me and parked my bright blue Ford Focus beside the black Rolls Royce Alfred favoured driving. After shutting the gate, I let Blaze out to run around and then plopped my butt on the hood of my car to eat my breakfast and wait. I had no idea where Bruce or Alfred could possibly be hiding, but I knew they'd come and get me eventually. I had the shimmering surface of the river and my cooling breakfast to keep me occupied… Oh, the fun.

I was just finishing my sandwich when there was a soft rumbling from inside the shipping container. Confused, I slipped off the hood of my car and stepped towards the vessel, my eyebrows furrowed. Blaze appeared beside me and walked at my heels, like the good dog he was, his ears pointed forward and a low growl in his throat. He barked when the door opened and I jumped, but sighed in relief when it was only Alfred, smiling his warm and familiar smile. Blaze ran up to the butler and jumped at his hand until Alfred submitted and scratched his ears.

"Good morning Miss Black."

"Morning Alfred." I looked behind him, into the shipping container. It looked whole, solid and normal. "Um… Where did you come from?"

"Follow me."

I obliged, Blaze trotting at my heels again, his head held high now that he knew there was no threat. Alfred led us back into the container, and stopped in the middle. He turned and smiled knowingly. I jumped and yelped simultaneously as the floor started to descend, and Alfred chuckled.

"What the hell?!"

Blaze barked loudly for a minute.

Alfred didn't say anything. Just retained his grin. There was a dull click as the floor slid into place. A concrete floor spanned out in all directions, and the ceiling was completely made of fluorescent lights, casting all the high-tech equipment into sharp relief against the concrete walls. I recognized all the equipment – I had helped move it. It was Batman's. The computer terminals were set up, so they were off the surface of the massive L-shaped desk, leaving it a clear workspace. There were other workstations set up in front of me as well, tools of all kinds scattered over the tables. Behind me, the Tumbler (a.k.a. The Batmobile) was parked, and a compartment that looked like it fit into the floor held the Batsuit. A panel in the wall was opened, revealing a sort of garage where a red motorcycle was parked.

I spun around in a circle until I spotted Bruce standing in front of the Tumbler. Blaze was sitting at his feet, panting with his eyes closed while Bruce ruffled the fur around his next. I thrust my arms out to my sides and gestured, my mouth slightly agape.

Bruce smiled.

I gathered myself together. "So _this _is like the Batcave now?" I asked. I crossed my arms and tried to keep myself from smiling. Over my initial shock and surprise, I discovered I quite liked the space.

"I guess so."

Stepping off the section of moveable floor, I walked over to Bruce. "I'm impressed though. You must have moved this stuff down here fast. I only helped you move it, oh… a week ago?" Bruce nodded, and I nodded with him. "So, how long as this been set up?"

"We just finished two days ago, actually. Not everything is completely functional yet." Bruce walked towards the main computer station, and I followed. He typed something on one of the keyboards and the monitors all flared to life, images and words and figures flickering across the multiple screens. I had no doubt Bruce could follow everything, but I was having a little trouble. There was a lot of information flying across the LCD monitors. I knew it was all important. For a minute, I watched Bruce's hazel eyes flicker back and forth. "We've got another group of computers to set up."

"And _why _are you telling me this? Why are you showing me this?"

Bruce turned and looked at me. "You said you wanted to help."

"Oh, and this is your way of letting me help?"

He nodded.

I shrugged. "All right then. Where are these computers to set up?"

Bruce led me over to beside the wall with the garage and pressed a button that was invisible until his thumb depressed it. Another panel slid open, revealing a pile of boxes. They were all factory sealed. Of course they were. Most of Batman's equipment had been destroyed when the mansion burnt to the ground, collapsing through the foundation into the cave below the south-east wing. Alfred joined us and we proceeded to open the box containing the metal desk first. I didn't help set the desk up since I have _no _talent with tools. Well, I held things in place with Alfred while Bruce screwed them together. Does that count as helping? I guess. Whatever. After that, the three of us spent however long opening all the boxes containing the six computers and all their parts. I stopped counting after we opened the fourth monitor box and just mourned the pain my hands would be in tomorrow from putting pressure on the box cutter as I slid it through the tape. Over and over and over… And there was still _so _many boxes to go through…

"Has there been any more noise from the Joker?" I asked, pulling the flaps of another box open. I flicked my gaze over to where Blaze had fallen asleep, his legs sprawled like he was running, except he was on his side.

Bruce shook his head as he lifted the flat-panel monitor from the box. "He's been quiet lately." He set the monitor down on the desk and grabbed the screwdriver he'd been using to attach the mounts to the back of the monitors. "He's been out there for almost a month now and he hasn't done anything. I can't figure him out."

I got to my feet and moved to stand beside Bruce. "You will eventually." It was a lame thing to say, but I felt it was true.

"Maybe, but what will it take? Him killing people? Moving up from robbery?" He moved around the back of the desk, behind the bizarre-looking metal structure that was holding the monitors above the desk, just like the other computer terminal. For a minute, Bruce just stared at the top of the metal desk, his brows knitting together as he sunk into deep thought. This Joker thing had been eating at him since Lieutenant Gordon had given him that first playing card; the card had a place of honour at the main computer station, pinned to the front of one of the wooden shelves. "I can't let him kill people, Eleanor," he said finally.

"I know, Bruce."

I lifted the monitor up to its place and let Bruce move it and my arms until the holes were aligned. He quickly screwed it into place; the monitor was heavy and I didn't have that much upper body strength. It could have gone quicker, if he'd used a power drill or something, but Bruce liked physical work. I thought he might enjoy the pain on some level. You know, because pain reminds everyone that they're alive and all that? I didn't really understand it, but I wasn't the one who had spent years in a monastery, now was I?

"I feel like I'm losing whatever respect I gained as Batman. First Crane and now the Joker…"

I just nodded as Bruce thought out loud as we walked back to the pile of monitor boxes. The one we removed was the last one. Now all that was left were the keyboards, the speakers, the towers… Sometimes, I really hated computers.

"Bruce," I said after he had fixed the last monitor in place, "You _will_ get this guy." Again lame, what else _could _I say?

He looked at me for a minute. "Thanks Ellie." A small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.

Alfred, who had disappeared at some point to make lunch for everyone, returned then, descending from above with a large picnic basket hanging from one arm. He walked over to the only clear spot on the desk, set it down and started removing containers of food. As the smells hit my nose, I realized how hungry I was and journeyed over, Bruce walking beside me. Blaze woke up and sat up, patiently waiting for a treat.

"A picnic Alfred?" Bruce asked, picking up a warm chicken sandwich.

"Well, this is hardly my choice of location for a picnic, but it will serve."

Bruce and I both smiled. I reached into the basket and removed a can of diet soda, nodding my thanks to Alfred, who had, in the last few weeks, picked up on my love of carbonated drinks. We ate the chicken sandwiches, and pasta salad with black olives that I picked out and stored on the edge of my plate. Olives and celery were two vegetables I couldn't stand. Blaze managed to beg a piece of chicken from Alfred, and he ate my discarded olives. My dog would eat _anything_.

The only time I left the bunker that day was to take Blaze home when I realized how long I was going to be there. After we set up the rest of the computer components, Bruce and Alfred went to the mansion grounds to check on construction, and I plunked myself in front of the newly set-up computers to install the programs that were on the main computers as well as several forensic programs. Bruce was turning into quite the detective, and he was taking it seriously. I found the science very interesting, but my brain wasn't really wired for science or math, so it kind of flew over my head. When Bruce and Alfred returned, it was with dinner. Time was really flying by. Bruce took over the computer work after we finished eating dinner and I took a walk around the bunker.

I stopped in front of Batman's suit and stared into the empty eye holes of the cowl. Suddenly, the whole thing seemed surreal. Me standing in Batman's headquarters… I shook my head. Since Bruce had returned to Gotham, everything had been turned upside down and I had been thrust into this… supernatural-ish world. So had Rachel. I grimaced as I realized, _again_, just how similar we were.

Bruce's hand appeared on my shoulder, sending a feeling like electricity through my body; the sensation happened every time he touched me. To my credit though, I didn't blush when he made physical contact with me anymore. "It's time for me to head out."

I twitched a smile at him and then headed over to the main computer terminal, trying hard not to think about him changing behind me. "Is this connected to Batman?" I asked, pointing at a headset. I still referred to Batman as a separate person, even when I was talking to Bruce. Something in my head just kept all three of his selves separate: Batman, Playboy Bruce and Bruce.

"Yes," he said, his voice slightly muffled as he pulled the cowl over his head.

I slipped the headset on and sat on the stool. "I'll be here."

"N—"

"_Yes._"

Instead of arguing, Bruce climbed into the Tumbler and took off. I didn't watch him leave. I just listened. It was an odd sensation to hear the roar of its engines behind me and from inside the car at the same time. Alfred had gone home, so I was by myself, but I didn't really mind. It was oddly peaceful underground.

* * *

"Eleanor, wake up."

The voice sounded far away. There was a pressure on my shoulder and I groaned.

"Wake up."

Bruce's voice jolted into reality and I sat straight up, my back cracking in protest and my shoulders and neck exposing all the stiffness and knots they had accumulated over the night. "What time is it?" I mumbled, reaching over my shoulders to knead my flesh.

"Six."

"What?" I spun – too quickly as my neck snapped painfully – and noticed that Bruce was dressed in normal clothes. "Why didn't you wake me up when you got back?! When did I fall asleep?!"

"Relax," he said. He put his hand on my shoulder and I closed my eyes, the electric feeling twisting my stomach into knots. "You were still half-awake when I got back. You fell asleep after I changed. You looked like you need the sleep, so I left you." He produced a tall silver thermos. "Alfred brought coffee. Have a cup and then you should go home and clean up. I'm sure Blaze misses you." He smiled.

I poured some of the still-piping coffee into the lid of the thermos and nodded. As he sat in the other stool, I took a sip. "Oh, and I'm naming this place Bat Central."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at me. "I wish you wouldn't."

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**Author's Note… **Well, I'm quite pleased with this chapter. Again, this is a TEASER CHAPTER, meaning I don't know when you'll see more of this fic. If I get a good response, it'll be sooner though, because good reviews always make you wanna write more, am I right? So review and let me know what you think! Oh, and FYI, if you didn't pick it up, this is BEFORE the movie starts.


	2. Chapter Two: The Goddamn Impostors

I do not own **Batman**. Sucks, don't it? I do own Eleanor Black and all the other characters and plot points that aren't part of the movie. Rated T for the same reasons the movie was rated PG-13. Enjoy.

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**Chances Are…  
**Chapter Two: The Goddamn Impostors

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When I returned to my apartment, it was nearly eight in the morning. All I felt like doing was crawling into my bed and going back to sleep. Sleeping hunched over on a desk wasn't exactly the most comfortable way to go about it, after all, and the back of my neck throbbed painfully, reminding me never to do that again. I knew I probably would, regardless of what my body told me. My neck could just be stiff and sore. That's what painkillers were for. I popped a couple pills in my mouth and swallowed them with a large gulp of water and then flopped down on the couch while I waited for the pills to kick in. Blaze leapt up beside me and laid his large head in my lap.

"I supposed you'll want to go for a walk?" I asked, scratching the top of his head.

He just looked up at me, as if to say: "Obviously."

"Just let me phone Mom and Dad. They're probably wondering why I wasn't at home last night." I looked at the blinking number 2 on my answering machine and just knew one of the messages was from my mother. But I had no idea who the other was from, so I pressed the NEW button and listened to the machine tell me what I already knew.

_"You have two new messages. First new message."_

_"Ellie, it's Mom." _I knew it. _"I was just calling to check up on you. You seemed kind of frazzled when you left Bruce's apartment last night… Call me back. Love you." _

I pressed the DELETE button.

_"Message deleted. Next new message." _

_"Good morning, Eleanor. I was wondering if you could come in a little earlier this morning. There is something I would like to… discuss with you. Talk to you later." _

Ah, Lucius Fox. I pressed the DELETE button again and sat there for a minute and then something in my head snapped. "Damn it!" I cursed out loud. "I've got to go to work still!" And now that Mr. Fox had asked me to come in early, I would have to be there at nine or nine-thirty instead of at ten, like I usually was. Grumbling, I pushed myself off the couch. "Come on Blaze," I said as the husky leapt to the ground and ran to the door. "Just a short walk. Mommy was stupid and stayed in the Bat Bunker all night because she forgot she had to go to work today." I attached his leash and locked the door as we shuffled into the hallway. I barely had time to shove my keys in my pocket before Blaze was dragging me towards the elevator.

It was eight twenty when we got back upstairs.

I checked Blaze's food and water and then had the fastest shower of my life. Still dripping, I pulled my clothes – a black skirt and bright blue button down blouse – on and brushed my hair after ringing it out over the sink. I nearly fell over as I put my shoes on because I was moving towards the door, and then I almost forgot my purse.

I hated rushing around. Especially when I'd had _maybe_ three hours of sleep.

Lucius was seated behind his desk when I finally made it up there, his normal friendly smile planted on his face and his brown eyes sparkling warmly. I slumped into the chair in front of his desk and tried to smile back. As tired as I was, I had a feeling it came out more as a sign of relief to be sitting down again.

"Tired are we?"

Lucius knew that Bruce was Batman. He was a very intelligent man, so, even thought Bruce hadn't told him outright, he had been able to guess. Also, he _had _built all of the gadgets Batman used and it hadn't been that difficult to recognize them; since he was the only one in the Applied Sciences division, he was the only one who _could _recognize them. They had made a game of pretending they _weren't _talking about Batman, which was useful when it came to keeping the secret in a busy workplace, but was also very entertaining to watch. And, when I was feeling up to making clever comments, participating in. But, somewhere in the game, my involvement with the caped crusader had come up and now, well, things were a whole lot easier at work.

"Yeah. Late night."

Lucius smiled his knowing grin and pushed a steaming cup of coffee towards me. I looked at for a minute and then back up at him. He shrugged. "I can get another mug. You need it more than I do, I think."

I nodded my thanks and took a long drink from the cup. "What did you want me to come in early for?"

"I hate to do this to you Eleanor, but the Wayne Enterprises charity Gala—"

"You want me to get the plans finished?" My mouth lifted at one corner. I wasn't mad or anything, I just hated planning the Wayne Enterprises Charity Gala because it was one of the _biggest _parties in Gotham. And it had a reputation to keep up. "What happened? Did the head planner get the flu or something?" I took another sip of coffee and ran my fingers backwards through my wet hair. "There aren't many other reasons you would get _me _to do it."

Lucius chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "No, but you're right. There aren't many reasons. Unfortunately, Monica's mother is very ill and she had to rush home to Colorado to help take care of her."

I nodded and took another sip of coffee. "That's not good… Ah, well, I'll do my best. When's the rest of the _team _getting here?" I didn't really get along with the constantly giggling and hyper young women who took it upon themselves to plan the gala every year. They were always so… insufferably happy.

Again, Lucius laughed. "Around ten. I also wanted to ask if you'd seen the news."

"Not from this morning. Why?"

Lucius pointed behind me and then grabbed a slim remote from his desk. I turned the chair to look at the flat-screen TV and Mr. Fox pressed play. The image on the screen abruptly jumped to a recorded copy of the morning news. On the screen, there was a tired-looking man with his arms crossed and a disturbed look on his face. The reporter was holding the microphone up to his face, and behind them, sirens blared and red and blue lights twirled.

"So you're saying you _saw _Batman shoot a gun?"

The man nodded and opened his mouth. It took a few tries for the words to come out though. "I was going to my car, in that parking garage—" he pointed somewhere behind the woman "—and there was this loud bang and then I looked over there—" he pointed to the structure behind him "—and I saw Batman, holding a gun and there was something that looked like-like-like _blood_ on the window." The man's face paled and he convulsed slightly, like he was going to throw up. "I thought we could trust Batman not to go to that level! He's never used guns before!"

I turned back to face Lucius, my face set in an expression of anger. "He doesn't use guns."

Lucius nodded and leaned forward on his desk, folding his hands and sighing softly. "I know. Do you know if Bruce has seen this yet?" he asked, his voice a whisper.

"No. I don't. But he'll want to. I'll go call him."

Smiling a smile that was obviously forced, I got to my feet and headed to where my desk sat, near the door, a short distance away. I nodded briefly to Coleman Reese, the corporate lawyer Bruce had recently hired. The mousey man was kind of irritating, but he was good at his job and polite enough. I didn't talk to him too much, but that was beside the point. I sat down in my swivel-able desk chair and picked up my phone; after digging in my purse for a minute, I realized I'd forgotten my cell phone on the kitchen counter. Smooth, eh?

_"Hello Ms. Black," _Alfred said as he answered the penthouse phone.

"Hey Alfred. Is Bruce there?"

_"Just a moment." _

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, and then logged onto my computer as I waited, cradling the phone between my ear and my shoulder.

_"Morning Eleanor." _

"Did you see the news this morning?" I asked, ignoring the fact that he sounded _very _tired. He probably had had less sleep than I did. I'm sure he would be more interested in the impostors on the news than sleeping anyway.

_"No. Alfred did, and he told me about the impostors using guns. He recorded the footage, and I was going to watch it after the LSI Holdings meeting at Wayne Enterprises this morning."_

Damn it, I forgot about the meeting too. It the first in what was for sure going to be a long string of meetings between Wayne Enterprises and a Chinese company that provided many business opportunities. "Right. I can see if I can find more information from other news stations, if you'd like."

_"Eleanor, you don't have to do all this for me. Alfred and I can handle anything." _

"I'm not arguing with you about this Bruce. I want to help. I'm going to help."

He sighed. _"I'll see you at the meeting then." _

I hung up the phone and pinched the bridge of my nose between my forefinger and thumb. My eyelids felt like they were made of lead and they kept closing of their own will. I drained the coffee Lucius had given me before walking over to the pot and pouring myself more. Stirring sugar and cream into my drink, I returned to my desk and once again, picked up the phone. I knew my mom would call soon anyway if I didn't return her message.

_"I was wondering when you'd call honey!"  
_

"You just left the message this morning, Mom."

_"Well, whatever. Are you all right?" _

"I was just frazzled because I was tired. I'm fine now." Of course, my body chose then to betray me and I yawned. Loudly.

_"You don't sound like you've had much sleep. Are you sure you're all right?" _

"Mom, I am fine," I said, putting a strong emphasis on every word.

_"OK, OK. Did you see the news this morning? About Batman and the guns? Can you believe that? I know he's your hero honey, but maybe he's… I don't know, lost touch or something? I mean, there's all those rumours about The Joker and crazed, masked villains running around…"_

"Mom, I don't want to hear it. It's _not _Batman."

_"How do you know?" _

"I just do. I'll talk to you later, OK?"

As soon as she said goodbye I hung up the phone and plunked my head down on the keyboard, closing my eyes. When I lifted my head, there were lines of gibberish in the address bar of the internet. I backspaced them away and then typed in the URL for Gotham Cable News' website. I spent the next few minutes sifting through the headlines – all of which were about Batman – looking for something that hadn't already been said. There wasn't much. I was on the second page of the article when a myriad of people in business suits started filing off the elevator and into the boardroom, Mr. Lau, the head of LSI Holdings and Bruce Wayne included.

Instead of going directly into the boardroom, Bruce turned and walked over to my desk, just as I was rising to my feet. There was a strange look on his face. Slightly confused. Worried. Upset. I knew the minute he walked into that boardroom though, all those emotions would give way to false indifference. A talent he was proud of, I think: being able to control his emotions.

"I watched the footage."

"And you seem greatly disturbed."

Bruce sighed and slipped his hands into the pockets of his pinstriped pants. "This isn't what I wanted to happen."

I walked around the desk to stand in front of him. He looked at me and we stood there in silence for a minute. These were the moments I savoured. The moments when there were no masks, no Rachel and nothing except me and him. I sighed and placed a hand on his arm.

"You'll figure something out. You always do."

He smiled a half-smile at me.

"Mister Wayne? The meeting is about to start."

Bruce and I turned and he let me lead the way across the hall to the boardroom. As I passed into the large room, completely empty except for the long table and the many swively chairs set up around it. Bruce and I hunkered down into two of the chairs a few paces away from the main grouping of meeting-goers. The chairs in here were much more comfortable than the one at my desk, but I figured it was so those who had to suffer through long meetings like this one didn't become uncomfortable in the grey-and-beige-coloured room and lose focus. Of course, on three or less hours of sleep, the chairs were comfortable enough to fall asleep in.

And that's what I did.

And man, did I regret it later.

"Eleanor, we can't have someone as high up in the company as you falling asleep in important business meetings!"

I rolled my eyes at Coleman and sat backwards in my chair. "I already said I was sorry. What else do you want me to say? That it won't happen again? OK, I can say that." My eyes narrowed slightly. "It won't happen again."

Coleman looked from me to Lucius and ran his hands over his short reddish hair and then pulled at the front of his black suit jacket, straightening it. He cleared his throat. "Mister Fox, I suggest you do something about your _assistant_. She seems a little out of control."

"I will handle the situation, Mister Reese." Lucius smiled at me out of the corner of his mouth and then gestured for the lawyer to leave. Once Coleman had left, Lucius fixed his dark brown eyes on me. "Eleanor, if you keep this up, you will run yourself ragged."

"I'm afraid it's my fault she fell asleep," Bruce said, appearing in the seat beside me from God knows where. I was so startled, I jumped slightly, and both the men chuckled a bit. "I won't let it happen again." He turned his green eyes on me, and I knew what he meant: _No more Bat Central for you. _

"Well, I can see there is something you two want to talk about, so I'll just go attend to some other business."

I watched Lucius get up from his desk and then turned to face Bruce, who was looking at me with the same look in his eyes. He didn't want me in Bat Central, but I wasn't going to cave. I fixed him with a look of my own and crossed my arms. For a while, we just sat there and looked at each other. I think Bruce knew I was determined to stay involved with Batman, but he was as stubborn as I was, maybe even more, and he was determined to keep me at a distance.

"Eleanor—"

"Shut up. I'm staying."

"Ellie—"

"Don't even start with the nicknames Bruce. You can push me away all you want, I'll keep coming back."

He rolled his eyes. "Ellie, I can't—"

"Just shhh and give it up."

"No, Eleanor, it's too dangerous to have you that close to Batman."

"What? No one knows where Bat Central is—"

"That's not the point, Ellie." Bruce sighed, got to his feet and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows of the top floor of Wayne Enterprises. I followed him, and stood slightly behind him and to the side. "I'm already risking Alfred's life, and possibly Rachel's if anyone finds out that she knows who Batman is, and I can't have your life in my hands too." After a minute of silence, Bruce turned to look at me. "Being connected with Batman will be dangerous, if it's not already."

"… Just shut up, Bruce. You _know _why I'm doing this. At least, you _should_. And if you _do _you'll know that I'm not going anywhere. You _need _help." I took a step closer to him, swallowed the lump that had, for some reason, appeared in my throat. "You and Alfred can't do everything by yourselves," I said, my voice dropping to just above a whisper. "And… _Rachel_ is too busy to help you…" I looked at the floor and frowned. "And she doesn't want you to be Batman anymore, anyway." Gotta make Rachel sound bad. Mhm. Go Eleanor. Moral compass pointing north, for sure. I looked back up at Bruce. "I am going to help you whether you like it or not, so stop pushing me away, because I'll just keep coming back. OK?" I smiled bitterly. "You can ignore me if that makes it easier for you, but I'm. Not. Going. Anywhere."

Bruce just started at me. Either he was trying to process what I'd just said, or he couldn't believe that I'd said it in the first place. Then he nodded. Just once. And then he walked past me to the elevator.

I went to join the _ladies _of the planning committee.

* * *

"Good evening Ms. Black."

"Hey Alfred." I slid onto the stool in front of the computer terminal and twirled to smile at the butler sitting beside me.

After work, I had gone home, changed into knee-length jean shorts and a baggy t-shirt, taken Blaze for a good long walk in the park, ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner, shoved a bag of carrots and a bottle of diet pop into my purse and drove to the train yard. Following instructions from Alfred, I parked behind the shipping container, hiding my brightly coloured car in the heavy shadows and then descended into Bat Central. My flip flops had echoed loudly in the concrete room, and at first, I hadn't thought anyone was there, but then Alfred and Bruce appeared from behind the compartment the Batsuit was usually stored in, Bruce dressed in Batman's attire except for the cowl.

Bruce came up beside me and I twirled around to face him. He smiled his slightly-lopsided smile at me, like everything was OK. Anger flared in my stomach, but I pushed it down and smiled back.

"Be careful." Lame. But I felt like it needed to be said.

He nodded once, but didn't say anything. Alfred opened one of the panels in the wall, revealing a road that sloped upwards. I had no idea where it came out, but I didn't really care. I just thought it was cool what unlimited monetary resources could accomplish. I mean, my parents had money, but they never did anything like Bruce did… Obviously. The tank-like Batmobile roared to life and took off down the road like a shot, the noise from the engines resonating in my chest for a few minutes after the massive black vehicle had disappeared.

"He needs to drive more carefully," Alfred said absent-mindedly.

"It can't be easy for you… Watching him go off every night and not knowing what's going to happen to him."

Alfred nodded, but didn't say anything. We both donned our headsets and I flicked a few switches on the terminal to connect us to the Batman. There was a few _bzzts _and blips as it connected, and then we could hear the rumbling of the Tumbler's engines. I listened as the sounds changed, and tried to guess what he was doing. Turning a corner, slowing down, speeding up. Stopping. The engines cut and the resulting silence seemed heavy after the constant roar.

_"I'm going up to the roof." _

"All right. I'll tune you into the police scanner." I flicked some more switches and pulled the headset down to hang around my neck. While he was listening to the scanner, he couldn't hear us and we couldn't hear him. We could both just hear the fuzzy voices of the police and the dispatcher. He hadn't quite figured out the multi-channel thing yet.

"Ms. Black, could we have a few words while Master Bruce is out of… earshot as it were?"

"I guess." I wasn't sure about the tone of Alfred's voice. He sounded like he wanted to discuss something… important. I had a feeling he was going to tell me to stay out of the way too, but I could be wrong. The elder butler had a way of surprising me. He was unpredictable. I swallowed and turned to face him. He was smiling.

"I know this can't be easy for you, Ms. Black."

"…What can't?"

"Being around Master Bruce while he's so focused on Ms. Dawes." His kind and knowing eyes locked onto to mine. "It's quite obvious your feelings for him have grown. I can't help but think his indifference is hurting you."

You can't get anything by Alfred, no you can not.

Afraid to test my voice, I just nodded.

"If I may offer you a few words of advice?" He took my steady stare as a yes, and continued. "Just give Master Bruce some time to realize what you mean to him, because, even though he'd probably never admit it, he does like having you around." Alfred smiled an encouraging smile. "Besides," he said, his voice dropping to almost a whisper, "Rachel wants Master Bruce to stop being Batman, and you're here supporting his efforts. I think he'll come to appreciate that." Alfred smiled another warm smile at me and I felt myself smiling back.

"Thanks Alfred."

"It's no problem Ms. Black."

"Call me Eleanor, please."

Alfred nodded and opened his mouth to say something else, but the voice of the dispatcher was suddenly very loud. _"All units respond. Drug buy taking progress at 349 Flanders Drive. All units respond." _

I flicked the switch, turning the line back over to Batman. "You hear that?"

_"I'm on my way."_

I did some fast typing and clicking. "Three fastest routes downloaded to your GPS."

_"I think I can get to the docks without the GPS." _

I rolled my eyes and beside me, Alfred smiled. "It's just in case, _Batman_."

The roar of the engines filled the headphones again and Alfred and I sat there in silence, listening as Batman drove across Gotham to the shipping district and the docks. I had the police scanner fizzing constantly beside me, and the noise was distracting, but I knew I'd get hell if I turned it off and missed something. I was only down there in Bat Central because I had been stubborn about it, and Bruce would no doubt kick me out for real if I messed up and the perpetrator got away because of it. It'd be all my fault.

As the engines died out again, distant gun shots became audible, and I swallowed. Ever since I'd found out Bruce was the man behind the bat-eared mask, I'd always been nervous about him going into situations where there were heavy arms. Small guns were no problem, and I knew his fancy Kevlar suit could deflect most shots – I got a whole speech about it when I asked Bruce what the suit was made of a while ago – but hearing those shots getting louder as he got closer… I had to force myself to ignore the hard knot of fear in my gut. Alfred showed his fear more outwardly; sweat beading faintly on his forehead and his hands balled into fists on his lap. I only recognized these as signs of fear for his ward because I had been around him so much recently.

The gunshots were suddenly very loud and surprised shouts were joining the symphony. Noises that I could only place as expert kicks and punches meeting their marks and heavy breaths, expelled in a rhythm indicative of an experienced martial artist performing his craft told me Batman was in the middle of the fray. I briefly closed my eyes, picturing him moving in and out of the shadows like he was part of them. I'd never actually seen him fight, but it seemed to me that's how it would look. Part of the shadows and all.

_"Get out of here!" _

I shifted forward on the stool, my back straightening, suddenly alert. "What's going on?"

_"The impostors showed up," _he grunted.

I settled back in my chair, satisfied there wasn't any terrible threat or anything. Like the Joker. Although, I seriously doubted Batman would say "get out of here" to the Joker or the Scarecrow or anyone else that would pose a serious threat. The gunshots that seemed to be more frequent now were what was really worrying me. Images of bloody bullet holes kept flashing through my thoughts.

No Ellie. Think positively. He would be fine.

He always was.

But what if he wasn't this time? What if one stray shot caught him in just that right way?

I bit my lip, my fingers sliding off the keyboard where they'd been positioned for a few minutes. I couldn't help picturing Bruce stumbling out of the Batmobile, beat up and bleeding. Falling to the floor.

I shook me head.

_Stop _it Ellie. That's no way to think if you're going to help Batman, now is it?

No. Batman had enough pessimism for ten people. Sometimes.

"Ms. Black, are you all right?" Alfred asked.

I realized I was holding my breath and exhaled before smiling rather shakily at the butler. "I-I'm OK. Just a little worried." He nodded and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Did I miss anything?"

"Master Bruce is on his way back."

I nodded and pulled the headset off, setting it on the desk before I got to my feet and started walking in squares around the computer terminals and other workstations. I wasn't exactly sure why I was so nervous _this _time. I had waited for Bruce to get back before, and I always knew he would come back OK… but I'd never heard gun shots that loud over the headset before and… Never that close.

STOP IT ELEANOR. He'll be fine.

I was making my third circuit of my square path when the wall lifted and the Tumbler came sliding down the ramp into its regular parking spot. The hatch opened and Batman leapt out, in one piece and not bleeding. He looked a little tired, but who wouldn't after a night of running around the city looking for crime to fight?

"They nearly got themselves killed!" Bruce exclaimed as he pulled off the cowl. He set it on the hook as the Batsuit-holder-thing rose from the floor. "So I had to make sure they didn't get themselves killed as well as trying to catch the Chechen's drug dealers." There was a look of frustration and rage on his face as he turned to face Alfred and me. "I can't have them interfering like this! I can't spare the time to keep them alive! They're just regular guys in hockey equipment… What do they think they're doing?"

"If I may sir," Alfred assumed, rising from his stool and moving to stand beside Bruce. "You are just a regular guy in hockey equipment as well, no matter how expensive it may be."

"But I've had training, Alfred."

"They've got guns," I offered. "Guns make people do stupid things."

Bruce looked at me for a minute and then nodded his agreement as he shrugged out of the upper part of Batman's suit. Alfred took it and placed it on the hooks. I must confess I stared at Bruce for a minute before I turned and walked away from where he was changing, my mind running over what Alfred had just said and applying it to my earlier worries. Yes, Bruce was wearing uber-expensive hockey equipment, but he could still be hurt… He could still be killed.

What was getting into me?

Was it the fate of everyone who was close to Bruce to start thing pessimistically?

Excepting Alfred of course, who seemed immune to negative thoughts.

"Eleanor, can you come over here?"

I turned and obediently walked back to the computer terminal. Bruce had taken my stool, and I wasn't going to make Alfred get up, so I leaned backwards, supporting myself with my palms on the desk top. Bruce stuck a slim memory card into a port and brought up a few images he had snapped of the scene, obviously after everyone had been cuffed since there was no one in the pictures; I figured Gordon had somehow got everyone to leave Batman alone with the crime scene. The first image was of skids of drugs, stacked neatly in those taped bundles you see on TV crime dramas. The second image was of stacks of money sitting on wide tables. The third image was of pages in a binder looked like records of some kind. I squinted, trying to read the barely-visible words.

"Just a second and I'll adjust the contrast."

Bruce clicked a few keys and moved a few things on the screen and abruptly I was able to read the blue pen on the computer screen. "The Scarecrow?" I asked, seeing a shorthand "JC" scrawled beside the word "Shipment". "You think Crane is behind this? That he's found somewhere to manufacture his fear toxin?"

He nodded. "That's exactly what I think. I also think he's going to want to make a deal with the Chechen. He's been dealing in his territory and I don't think the Chechen is happy about it. Those were his men at the scene, but they were burning the drugs. Destroying them." He brought up a third picture of three metal garbage cans in a row, purple- and blue-tinged flames blossoming out the top. "The only reason we were able to overwhelm them and their impressive amount of fire power—" he paused to bring up another picture of a pile of guns that was indeed impressive "—was because they _inhaled _the fumes from the fire. They were afraid of everything."

"So we're keeping our ears open for any news of a meeting going down?"

Bruce sighed, and for a minute, I thought he was going to protest my involvement further, but he didn't seem in the mood to argue with me anymore, for he just nodded again. "Gordon's got a mole in with the Chechen's men. He'll call me as soon as he hears anything. So you can go home, _for right now_," he added when he saw I was about to start another tirade.

I beamed. "OK, good. Anything else you picked up at the scene?"

"Yeah. Some of the lightly irradiated bills I gave the police to find the mob's banks were there."

"…Fothermucker. That's not good."

Bruce just rose an eyebrow at my not-so-swear. I just smiled oddly back.

* * *

**Author's Note… **So, with the great response to the first chapter, I'm not going to make you all wait as long as I thought I was… So I guess I'm working on two Batman fics right now. I want to say a big thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the first chapter, and I hope this one met your expectations! And no, maraudergurl2010, I am not offended that you think Superhero's Confidante sucked in comparison to the first chapter. I agree with you! My writing has improved a lot since then… (grins sheepishly) Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much, and no, we're not in the movie yet. We join the movie in the next chapter. (gives you all two thumbs up and a cheesy smile)

Oh, and about the secret-road-behind-the-wall, it was the only way I could think of to get the Batmobile out of the bunker place… And it's kind of feasible in the bat-verse. Right? Don't throw things at me. (hides behind her Batman pillow) Yeah, and you get a bizarre ending too. I just wanted to say fothermucker because I think it's funny. (grins from behind the pillow)

**Next Chapter: A Robbery and a Scarecrow. **


	3. Chapter Three: A Robbery And A Scarecrow

I do not own **Batman**. Sucks, don't it? I do own Eleanor Black and all the other characters and plot points that aren't part of the movie. Rated T for the same reasons the movie was rated PG-13. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chances Are…  
**Chapter Three: A Robbery and A Scarecrow

* * *

It had been Bruce's idea to give the Gotham City Police Department stacks of money light irradiated in order to track movements of money through the mob systems. Well, Batman to the police. They didn't know who he was. Not yet anyway. Gordon had been a little reluctant at first, but eventually had complied and taken the bills, sending them through the system via undercover agents working in and around the mobs. It had quickly become apparent which of the banks were being run by the mobs and making drug buys. While keeping tabs on the Joker, Batman and the police were working with the city, trying fervently to take down and expose these banks and stop the trafficking of drugs, especially the Scarecrow's fear toxin that had made a resurgence in certain areas of the city. By exposing the banks, the members of the mob were also exposed and could be thrown behind metal bars.

The Joker himself hadn't become a serious threat yet. He was moving around in the background, and as far as I could tell from the news, Batman's word and the information flowing over the police scanner, he was manipulating the mobs and drug lords as they became more and more frightened of being caught by the police and slash or the caped crusader behind the Batsignal in the sky. He had probably amassed some sort of small fortune, but I had a feeling he would soon move into the foreground, and probably out of boredom. If there was one thing I had learned while working with Batman, even if it was only a few weeks, it was that inhabitants of Arkham were not ones to stay in the background; he had already put some of the inmates back in their cells, but there was a whole collection of nuts running around the Narrows just waiting to be thrown back into their confines. Hearing Bruce's recollections of encounters with those people made me glad I worked behind the scenes. And I wasn't looking forward to when the Joker was going to become more of a threat.

His white-painted face flashed through my mind and I cringed. The Joker terrified me.

But that didn't mean I was going to run away.

My work that day, down in the Bat Bunker, consisted of trying to find any information on the Joker and making a log of it. I was also doing some work for Lucius, something about shipping documents, but that kept getting minimized in favour of my Batman-related task. I wasn't having much luck finding anything on the Joker, much less something new. Bruce would have something to say about that. He had already made it clear he thought he had found everything there was to know about the clown-like criminal, and that my search was going to be in vain. I had chosen to ignore him and try anyway.

Bruce was sitting at the other computer terminal, several feet away and facing in the opposite direction, going over the photographs from the drug bust the night before. He was trying to track the Scarecrow. If he could get Jonathon Crane back into the asylum, that would be one less crazy on the streets and he could go back to concentrating on taking down the mob and lowering the crime rate of the city. Hopefully. As far as we knew, Jonathon Crane was the only person who could manufacture the fear toxin, so sticking him in the dank prison would get that dangerous drug off the streets. Unless he had trained someone to do it. That seemed unlikely through. He liked being superior, and giving someone his secrets would make him less so. At least Bruce was having better luck than I was finding information.

As Bruce got up to refill his coffee mug from the large thermos Alfred had brought him that morning, he appeared behind me, looking over my shoulder at the computer screen. "I thought you had work to do for Lucius today. He won't be happy if it doesn't get done." I could hear the unshed smile in his voice. Occasionally that happened.

I didn't look back at him. "I'll get to it."

"You're not going to find anything new on the Joker."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Again."

Bruce sighed and sat on the empty stool beside me, cradling the steaming mug in his hands. For a few minutes, he didn't say anything, just watched my fingers snap across the keyboard. "I just mean I've already found everything about him that there is to find. No one knows where he came from, what his real name is, what's wrong with him – _nothing_. His records were destroyed. And it's almost impossible to track him for very long; he keeps moving." Again, there were a couple seconds of silence. "I'm not saying you're incapable, Eleanor."

"I can try." I finally turned to face him, and that electric feeling flew through my body. But this time, it didn't hang around. "I just don't think it would be a very good idea for you not to have everything you possibly can on this guy. If he suddenly starts moving around where we can get him, you can't be unprepared. And what if you missed one crucial piece of information? What if you missed something that will help you beat him?" I paused for a brief second, chewing on the corner of my lip, because I knew the protests my next words would bring. "He's dangerous… Not afraid to kill anyone who gets in his way and who's going to get more in his way than Batman? He will kill you."

Bruce just at me for a few more long moments of silence. I knew what he was thinking: that he wished I wouldn't worry so much and that I should know he was going to be fine. He was Batman. But he wouldn't say it. Not anymore. He'd tried to stop me before, but I would always argue. I think he'd finally decided it wasn't worth it if I would just keep doing what I was doing. The same logic applied to the argument over me staying in Bat Central. And I don't think he wanted me to say those three little words again. He knew how I felt and that those feelings were going to colour my actions and words and make me more inclined to stay and to help. Bruce didn't want to face the truth of my feelings… He was too busy thinking about Rachel and pining over the unreturned state of his own feelings.

Eventually he just nodded and returned to his own work station.

It was moments like those ones, when we were alone in Bat Central, starting at each other and avoiding the huge, gaping chasm filled with everything we didn't say, when I wished I was somewhere else. That might seem odd, since, you know, I was in love with Bruce and you'd think I'd savour any time I could steal with him. But it was just awkward whenever we were alone where no one else could hear or see us; well, I felt awkward. Bruce probably didn't. He had that uncanny ability to ignore what he should be feeling. I always felt like I should say something, but I could never figure out what to say. And I got the feeling Bruce wanted to say something too, but that was probably just wishful thinking on my part. I wanted him to say something, maybe apologize? I just wanted him to pay attention to me in any way but the friendly indifference he did now. That was frustrating. Infuriating. I wanted to be the one he was thinking about all the time. Not Rachel.

I looked over at Bruce, back turned to me now, and opened my mouth, but just like always, I closed it again, whatever words lost. Lost in the tumultuous storm of my head.

"You can go home tonight, Eleanor."

Bruce's voice was startling in the silence of the bunker and I jumped a few inches off my stool, stumbling from my seat as I came back down. His strong hand appeared on my arm and pulled me back up to my feet before I could collide with the concrete floors. Heat rushed into my cheeks when his hand didn't leave my arm; I wondered how he managed to travel those distances in the blink of an eye and always be right where you needed him. Where I needed him.

"I'm not going to need anyone down here," he added before I could protest at all. Not that I was going to, or anything… He let go of my arm and I leaned on the desk, the stupid blush still on my stupid cheeks. "I'm just going into the Chechen's territory to see if Gordon's mole's tip was legitimate. There's supposed to be a meeting in one of the parking garages. I'll be able to get in touch with you or Alfred if I need any help." His hazel-y eyes stared down at me, daring me to argue with him. The flame flared in my primal sweet spot, but for some reason, I didn't even bother. Just sighed and nodded.

"As long as you promise you _will _call me," I breathed.

He nodded his head once. That was as good as I was going to get, I guess.

I sighed for what felt like the millionth time and ran my fingers through my loose red-brown hair, flinging some random strands out of my eyes. "All right. Then I'll go home." From somewhere inside, I mustered a smile. "Blaze is probably going nuts anyway. I haven't been home since early this morning. He'll need to go for a long walk…" I actually smiled a bit at the thought of my husky jumping around and barking madly at the doors and windows, at anything moving outside. He was probably driving my neighbours crazy. If I was lucky, my neighbour across the hall, who did have a key, had gone into to check on my dog and maybe played with him for a few minutes. "I'll be back tomorrow night though." Hey, I had to get a point in there somewhere.

The smallest of smiles played across Bruce's lips. "All right."

I grabbed my backpack from its spot on the floor beside the desk and started for the platform, my flip-flops flip-flopping loudly on the hard floor. Bruce walked with me, probably just to make sure I'd actually leave and not demand to stay, and, as always, we walked in silence and I fought the urge to grab his hand. Why did he have to walk so close to me anyway? Gragh. As I stepped onto the middle of the platform and turned to face him, the police scanner _fzzzt_ed and startled me again. Man, I was jumpy today…

_"All units respond. Bank robbery in progress at First Bank of Gotham City." _

The platform had started to rise, but my eyes found Bruce's and he sighed, submitting to me over-stubbornness and desire to be involved. And probably the eagerness I could feel burning my eyeballs. He extended his hand and, smiling inwardly at my unintentional victory, I took it and hopped back to the concrete floor a little less than gracefully. Bruce had to steady me again and my cheeks immediately flared into fluorescent glory. I could feel Bruce's steady gaze on my back as I returned to the computer terminal. When I finally sat back down, Bruce was already sitting beside me, and damn it, I jumped again.

"Do you _always _have to just pop up like that? Can't you ever walk normally and make noise like a normal person? Scratch that; don't answer. You're not normal. You're the Batman. Right. I keep forgetting." Wow, just shut your mouth Eleanor.

Bruce shrugged and expelled what was on his mind anyway. "I'll head over to the bank after I investigate the Chechen's territory. Gordon and his men can work the scene first and I'll just look at the leftovers. Gordon will tell me anything I need to know about anything that's left the room. I have a feeling we won't find anything much anyway." He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing again, and then got to his feet and headed to the closet-thing where the Batsuit was.

I grudgingly averted my eyes.

* * *

The Chechen's territory was, like most of the poorer districts of Gotham, very poorly lit. For me, that wasn't a bad thing, as the lack of lighting provided many shadows to conceal myself in. I had been listening to the activity of families and pedestrians for a few hours now with no results. Now, I was hanging around some of the less-used warehouses and parking structures and buildings on the outskirts of the territory, still listening and still finding nothing. The meeting was supposed to be in one of these structures, but the mole could have been fed false information. He could have lied. It was very quiet out here, especially since Eleanor hadn't spoken in quite some time. She was probably still trying to find information on the Joker, even though I had told her she wasn't going to find anything else. I did admire her persistence and dedication.

_'You there Bats?" _

Speak of the devil. I rolled my eyes, wishing to some unseen person that she would stop coming up with nicknames for me and everything else. "I'm here." I was careful never to say her name or Alfred's when I was in proximity to anyone else or somewhere others might hear. No point in putting them in more danger than they were probably already in.

_"Anything yet?" _

"No. Not yet. Are the police still at the bank?" I hopped she was keeping tabs on that situation.

_"As far as I can tell, they're still there. The CSI team is still there, and Gordon will probably show up a little later. I'll bet you anything he's not showing up until he thinks you'll be there." _

"Well, if nothing happens around here shortly, I'll head over there. What information can you give me?"

_"It was the Joker. They've got pictures of him from the security cameras, but nothing else. He escaped and they found four dead bodies with clown masks and the bank manager died shortly after they arrived." _She paused, probably reading over notes she had made while eavesdropping on the emergency personnel. _"That's about it. He only left the irradiated bills in the safe, so they can't track money flow from this bank. But it was a mob bank. That much is clear." _

"Thanks."

I turned my gaze, enhanced by night vision lenses, to the parking garage across the street. Minimal activity, like it had been since I got there. Eleanor lapsed into silence waiting for me to say something else, and when I didn't, there was a click as the channel shifted back to the police scanner. For a while longer, there was no more activity across the deserted street and I half-rose, preparing to head back to where I had parked the Tumbler. A white van appeared. The kind used mostly by companies to make deliveries. When it pulled into the parking structure, I turned my attention back to the floor where I had seen a few people wandering around. The Chechen climbed out of one of the sedans, dogs barking around his feet.

Knowing this was what I'd come for, I descended from the roof I was inhabiting and, keeping to the shadows to stay invisible, made my way to the likely deserted apartment building beside the garage and grapple-lined up its roof. There was a large hole to my left as I landed. Briefly, I looked down. It was definitely deserted. That was good. That meant I didn't have to worry about innocent people getting injured If guns got involved, which they probably would.

I silently hoped Eleanor would keep her ears on the police scanner. Gun shots made her worry.

I also silently hoped I wouldn't get shot. Any injuries I sustained gave Rachel's argument that I should stop taking to the streets as Batman that much more credible and alluring.

Situated out of sight of those on the – I paused to count – seventh level of the garage, but so I could see and hear them, I waited. I listened. If this went well, I could get Crane and the Chechen as well as those who worked for them. Or some of them at least. But that was only if this went according to the plan forming in my mind as I watched.

_"Look what your drugs have done to my buyers!" _the Chechen was yelling. He was turned towards the back of the van, where the doors were flung open. I assumed that was where Crane was hiding, afraid to show his burlap mask in case I was nearby. _"You made them crazy!" _

There was movement as two overly large and armed men stepped out of the back of the white vehicle. A very slim man followed, wearing a new blue suit and the burlap mask which struck fear into everyone he looked at thanks to the compressed version of his fear toxin he kept on his wrist. My long-range listening device crackled as he laughed with a hissing quality. _"Buyer beware," _was all he said.

Then the gun shorts echoed.

_"It's him! He's here!" _the Chechen barked over the similar-sounded noises of his angry dogs. _"Loose the dogs!"_

I winced as the dogs were let off their leads. They might be a problem.

_"That's not him." _

The impostors. Great. Now I _did _have innocent lives to worry about. I'd have to try and detain them as well for the police. As I listened to the ensuing gun shots, I quickly pulled a device from my belt and pressed a few buttons. Below me, the Tumbler roared to life and, via the little screen on the device, I sped up the ramps and around the corners of the parking garage and sent the media-dubbed Batmobile flying through the concrete barrier, crushing several of the Chechen's cars in the process. Silence fell as all eyes turned to the car. Exactly the reaction I was going for. I pressed one more button and returned the device as I got to my feet and entered the structure myself.

The Tumbler fired a couple small missiles into the walls surrounding the staircase.

_"That's more like it," _Crane whispered to himself, unaware I could hear.

I allowed myself a small grin at that as I approached the closest impostor. Slipping my fingers through the grip of a hydraulic device and sparing a brief second to attach the rest of it to my arm, I stepped into view and grabbed the barrel of his shotgun, bending it down and rendering the weapon unusable, and with a swift punch to the solar plexus, incapacitating the impostor. Behind us, the others started firing again and I turned, preparing myself to enter the fray. The dogs were the first to reach me, teeth bared and drool flying. I sent one over the wall and knocked another to the side. The third one managed to get its teeth around my arm and as I shook it loose, I felt the knife-like teeth rip my skin. I stifled a shout.

Immediately after I felt a bullet ricochet off my armour, but the van had started moving, so I wasn't going to spare any time to chase after the shooters. Crane was in the van – I saw his masked face as he spun the vehicle around towards the exit ramps – and he was the main target. If everyone else got away, I needed to catch the Scarecrow. The vehicle passed me and I leapt, grabbing the nearest of the roof rails with one hand and jamming the sharp and hooked edge of the device on my arm into the metal, pulling down, attempting to tear open a point of access. It caught on something inside the van, and Crane, realizing I was stuck, veered towards a support pillar. A small groan escaped my lips as my right side connected with the concrete, the impact throwing me to the floor. I rolled to my feet, ignoring the pain traveling through my body in waves.

The impostor I had punched was sitting with his back against the wall, his fellow impostors chasing the remainder of the Chechen's men away. He too, I ignored and put one foot up on the low wall, listening to the sounds of the van as it sped around the structure, fervently heading for the exit.

Just before Crane reached the spot below me, I jumped.

And like every time I was relying on the strange fabric of my cape to slow me, I wondered at the curious sensation falling instilled in my stomach.

And then it was gone as the metal of the van crunched under my boots.

I reached into the cab through the shattered glass and grabbed Crane by the shoulder of his coat and shirt. Dazed by the impact, he didn't resist. Not until I wrenched him out the door and slipped one of the plastic ties around his wrists, serving as handcuffs until the police arrived. I dragged him over to the wall where the impostor was sitting; his friends seemed to have vanished. I handcuffed him as well. Crane's two overly muscled guards were unconscious, slumped against each other in the back of the van. One had a shallow laceration on his forehead and the other, a large bruise forming on one cheek. I cuffed and tossed them against the wall as well.

At my command, the Tumbler rolled to a stop beside me and I hopped in.

"We were just trying to help!" the impostor protested.

"I don't need any help."

"What makes you so different from us?!"

Alfred's words from the day before popped into my head. "I'm not wearing hockey pads." The Tumbler's hatch closed, setting me and the driver's seat into place. The engine's roar filled my ears, but only for a moment. Soon, Eleanor's voice took its place.

_"I called the police. They're on their way to the parking garage." _A pause. I could almost guess what she was going to say next. "_That sounded violent." _

"The impostors again," I mumbled, not keen on talking about it at that moment. I had never meant for people to think vigilante justice was a way for everyone to solve Gotham's problems. Batman was meant to inspire people to do what _they_ could. Not to emulate what I was doing and get themselves killed… "I'm not sure if they all survived, but I think they did. I cuffed one of them. He's sitting with Crane and his grunts."

_"All right." _Another pause. When she spoke again, there was something missing from her voice. _"Are you OK?" _

I sighed, closing my eyes for the shortest of seconds. "I'm fine, Ellie."

_"Good. Gordon's making his way to the bank now." _

"Thanks."

_"I'm going off now. I'll leave the scanner on, just in case." _

I didn't say anything. There was nothing to say, really. I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was worried. My wounded arm suddenly flared in pain, as if telling me there was something behind Eleanor's worrying. But just like when it came to Rachel trying to convince me to stop being Batman, I ignored it until some later time when I could actually spare the thoughts to think about it.

* * *

I pulled the headset from my ears and placed it on the desk with a sigh. Leaning forward, I covered my eyes with my hands and tried to tell myself Bruce was OK. Through a curtain of my reddish hair, I watched the little lime green dot on the GPS screen telling me where the Batmobile currently was: about five blocks from the bank. The dot moved off the road and stopped moving. In my mind, I pictured Batman climbing out of the hidden car and taking to the roofs and running to the bank and then making some surprise appearance, startling Gordon like he so often startled me.

Unprovoked, my mind slipped back to that noise I had heard Bruce make. Amidst the growling and snarling of the dogs, I had heard something that sounded like a stifled scream. That noise had sent all sorts of images through my head. I was pretty sure he'd been bitten, but I wasn't sure because the suit was supposed to protect against all sorts of knives and bullets and weapons, so it should be able to protect him from a dog. Right? And bites could be pretty serious…

God Eleanor. He said he was OK. He's fine. He'll be back soon and then you'll see for yourself. He's fine. He's always fine…

I got up off the stool and started walking around the bunker, the noise from my flip-flops assaulting my ears. One circuit, two, three, four, and all I could think about was how much I'd worried when I'd heard the scream and all the gunshots. The sounds kept echoing through my head, reminding me, and I wondered if I _could _do this everyday. Could I sit here and listen as the man I loved put himself in life-threatening situations voluntarily? Could I listen as he narrowly dodged bullets and took out hardened mob criminals and escaped inmates from the insane asylum unarmed? More to the point, should I? Sitting through that might, no would, eventually drive me insane. Facing the possibility of Bruce not coming home night after night… I never would have admitted it to anyone, but at that moment, I could see the good in Rachel's pestering for the end of Batman. But I would never outwardly agree with her. For one, that would mean Bruce wouldn't be doing what he wanted, what he needed, what the city needed him to do. But, on a completely selfish point, if he stopped being Batman, then he and Rachel could actually be together. If that happened, I couldn't stick around. It was hard enough just being ignored because he was pining to be with her… If they were actually together, it would probably be like I never existed.

Come on Eleanor. Get it together. You're going to help Batman. You're going to stay.

Batman needed someone to believe in him. Someone who wasn't Alfred, who would have believed in Bruce no matter what he chose to do.

I suddenly smiled, thinking about what Alfred had said to me the day before.

Give Master Wayne some time.

I was worth something to him, even if he couldn't see it yet.

My mind was slightly settled. I stared at the part of the wall that opened up onto the road for a minute, thinking for some bizarre reason that he'd be on his way back already. On a sudden impulse, I looked at the clock. It was about two in the morning.

OK, if I was going to stay, I would need to get some sleep, because I still had to go to work. But I wanted to be here when he got back. I liked being the first person he saw after a night of crime fighting. I looked for anywhere I could rest that wasn't the desk, and found it behind the computer terminal. It looked as if Alfred had brought a comfortable chair down here so he had somewhere to sit while Bruce was working. Smiling, I plunked myself down and pulled my sweater tighter around myself.

Blaze popped into my head as I was drifting off. He would have to go out in the morning, and I mostly likely wouldn't have the time, what with sleeping here and then rushing around trying to get ready in the morning. I phoned my mother's cell phone, which would be off at this time, and asked her to go to my apartment and check up on my dog. Feeling bad about not making the time for my Siberian husky, I thought about maybe taking him to my parents, but than decided he'd be fine if I brought him with me more.

Now I was settled.

I closed my eyes and fell asleep almost instantly.

Somewhere in my dreams, I was aware of Bruce's return to the Bat Bunker.

* * *

**Author's Note… **OK, I'm going to apologize for the late update, even though I've been continually told not to. It's been over a month, and I feel really bad, but it's hard for me to remember to do everything while I've school going on. And right now, I've got four essays due soon and I'm struggling a bit to keep up with my writing. The only reason I'm updating this now is because I need a break. (exasperated sigh) So, I hope this chapter is up to your expectations, even though I'm not that happy with it and can't get it to a point where I am happy with it. I've been thrown back onto a Bleach kick, so... Even though that's not an excuse, that's all you get. The response to this story has been phenomenal, and it means so much to me, and I want to write chapters you all enjoy.

And I tried to add in another dimension with the multiple first person POVs. I hope that came across clear. I've never done something like that before.

Oh, and if you didn't notice, I changed my Pen Name to "The Batchild". Fits me better. (sticks tongue out)

Anyways, a bit of a treat. These are the lyrics to "Chances Are" by Vonda Shepard and Robert Downey Jr. This song kind of inspired the story a bit, and it for sure gave me a title. Just ask Shauna. I struggled with finding a title for this fic real bad. If you listen to the song, you have to reverse the roles. Like what RDJ sings would be from Eleanor's POV and VS would be Bruce's POV. It just doesn't work as well the other way. (sheepish smile) If you're interested, some other songs that fit Eleanor and Bruce's relationship are: "Life By The Drop" by Stevie Ray Vaughn, "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room" by John Mayer and "I Will Show You Love" by Kendall Payne. Also "Why Don't You Love Me?" by Amanda Marshall, although Eleanor knows the answers to most of the questions in the song.

Chances Are by Robert Downey Jr. and Vonda Shepard

Chances are you'll find me  
Somewhere on your road tonight  
Seems I always end up driving by  
Ever since I've known you  
It just seems you're on my way  
All the rules of logic don't apply

I long to see you in the night  
Be with you 'til morning light

I remember clearly how you looked  
The night we met  
I recall your laughter and your smile  
I remember how you made me  
Feel so at ease  
I remember all your grace, your style

And now you're all I long to see  
You've come to mean so much to me

Chances are I'll see you  
Somewhere in my dreams tonight  
You'll be smiling like the night we met  
Chances are I'll hold you and I'll offer  
All I have

You're the only one I can't forget  
Baby you're the best, I've ever met

And I'll be dreaming of the future  
And hoping you'll be by my side  
And in the morning I'll be longing  
For the night, for the night

Chances are I'll see you  
Somewhere in my dreams tonight  
You'll be smiling like the night we met  
Chances are I'll hold you and I'll offer  
All I have

You're the only one I can't forget  
Baby you're the best I've ever met

**Next Chapter: A New Batsuit, Eh? **Gee, I wonder what's going to happen? We're into the movie now, so the basic course of action is going to be predictable. But I'll try and make it more interesting. (sticks tongue out)


	4. Chapter Four: A New Batsuit, Eh?

I do not own **Batman**. Sucks, don't it? I do own Eleanor Black and all the other characters and plot points that aren't part of the movie. Rated T for the same reasons the movie was rated PG-13. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chances Are…  
**Chapter Four: A New Batsuit, eh?

* * *

I wasn't sure how long it was after Bruce returned that I woke up, but I _did _come out of my half-alert stupor when Bruce sat down at the main desk; as I had discovered the first time I'd sat on it, the stool had a tendency to creak whenever any amount of weight was placed on it. I sat up in the chair and pulled my leg off the armrest. He was intently stitching closed a large wound—that still looked like it might be bleeding a bit—on his left bicep and didn't seem to notice as I pulled the other stool up and sat down beside him. My back and neck were sore and the I-just-woke-up blurriness didn't seem eager to vacate my vision; I didn't really think sleeping in the chair again was a good idea. I adjusted my t-shirt and leaned on the heavy desk, looking up at Bruce from the awkward angle my line of vision had taken. He had changed out of Batman's costume and was dressed in pinstripe suit pants and a navy blue t-shirt and he looked exhausted—an expression I knew would disappear as soon as he left the bunker. I groaned as I remembered that there was another LSI Holdings meeting today and I would have to sit for God knew how long in the boring board room.

"You really should go home and get some sleep, Eleanor," Bruce said suddenly, drawing my attention away from the inevitable truth.

I made an indistinctive noise as I sat up, pulled a small batarang from the tangles of my rat-nest hair—I hadn't thought my hair strong enough to hold the metal tools—and wrested the needle from his hand. "Your stitches are crooked."

"And what do you know about stitching up someone's arm?"

I gave him the most indignant look I could muster and threw in a touch of raised eyebrow for good measure. "I'll have you know," I said as I started moving the needle up and down through his skin, "that Alfred has been sharing some of his medical knowledge with me, just in case he wasn't around when you needed the help." I peered down my nose as I stitched and tried to ignore the fact that I was in such close proximity to Bruce, the flush of heat in my cheeks and the feeling of his eyes on me. Of course, the feeling of his eyes on me could be my imagination, but I was sure if he _was_ watching me, he was studying the motion of my hands, scrutinizing the way I was stitching his wound closed, comparing my skills to Alfred, who had taken care of him for so long. "How did this happen anyway?" I asked, keeping my eyes on Bruce's arm. "It looks like you got mauled by a bear or something. Or, at least, your arm does."

Bruce made a noise that could have been taken for laughter. "I was attacked by a dog."

"A dog?"

"The Chechen has dogs."

I paused in my stitching. "You getting attacked must have been the noise I heard." The memory of the stifled scream flashed through my head and I winced before I started moving the needle again. I still wasn't looking at him, but I didn't have to be to know what he was about to ask.

"What did you hear?"

I finished stitching the wound and sighed, picking up one of the alcohol swabs so I could wash away the blood dried onto his arm and clean the wound. When all the blood was gone, I looked up at Bruce and shrugged as casually as I could. "Well, amidst all the fighting and screeching and screaming, I heard this noise… It sounded like you were holding in a scream or something." I put a thick gauze pad over the freshly stitched laceration and taped it in place with that special medical tape stuff. When I looked up, Bruce was staring at me with a disbelieving glint to his eyes. "What?" I sat back and crossed my arms under my chest. "I'm _sorry _if it was _weird _to hear you make a noise like that, but if you got attacked by a _dog_…"

"Hey, it was a _big_ dog."

I giggled a bit—and hated the noise because I sounded like some stupid love-struck teenage girl. "Oh-oh, _sorry_. It was a _big_ dog," I jibed sarcastically.

"What is this I hear about a dog Master Wayne?" Bruce and I both turned and watched Alfred walk across the bunker towards the computer terminal, a familiar silver thermos of coffee in his hands and a large smile on his face. "It'll be nice when the manor's rebuilt," he said to Bruce. "Then you can swap not sleeping in a penthouse for not sleeping in a mansion." Taking the look Bruce shot him with expert grace, Alfred set the thermos down on the desk and pulled his thin, wire-rimmed glasses out of his jacket and slipped them into place on his nose. "Excellent work, Ms. Black," he said as he observed my handy-work. "You're stitches have improved. You say this wound came from a dog, Master Bruce? It looks more like a bite from a tiger or some other exceptionally large mammal." Alfred looked at me when I giggled again and I hid my face behind a conveniently placed folder. "I see Ms. Black finds my wit amusing." He smiled at me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"As amusing as your _wit_ may be, the fact remains that I need a new suit."

"What? Lucius can't fix one tear?"

Bruce turned his not-so-amused glance at me. "It's not the tear, Eleanor. It's too heavy. I'm carrying too much weight. I need to be able to move faster and more easily." He ran his fingers back through his hair, contemplating his newly discovered needs.

"Well that is one thing I'm sure Mr. Fox _can _help you with." Alfred made a grab for the thermos and looked at me as his hand hit open air, eyebrow raised. The thermos was in my hands. "Why don't you talk to him after the meeting this morning?" he suggested once I had handed the caffeine over.

Bruce nodded and sighed, pouring himself a mug-full of the hot liquid. He drained the thermos cap and then looked at Alfred, remaining silent for a few long seconds. I had the feeling whatever he was about to say, I already knew. "There were more impostors last night," he breathed, his voice sounding incredibly forced, stressed; the impostors were taking a toll on the Batman.

Sensing the tension and sadness in his charge, Alfred moved to change the mood, to make Bruce smile. "Why don't you hire them and take the weekend off?" the elder man suggested, a wry grin twisting his mouth.

I wanted to laugh, but I kept my mouth shut.

Bruce exhaled a long and heavy breath, his shoulders and face falling. In that moment, I realized the extent of the exhaustion he was feeling, and I wanted to protest the nightly patrols, I wanted him to get more sleep, but I kept my mouth shut, and probably wisely. I wanted to stay involved with Batman, and to do that, I needed to rid my mind off all my concern for Bruce—well, I had to just not express my concern for Bruce. I watched as Bruce seemed to gather himself up, reassemble the pieces, and turn his half-amused face to his butler.

"That wasn't what I had in mind when I said I wanted to inspire good."

"You _have _inspired good, Bruce," I said on impulse. Damn it. I withdrew my hand from where it had subconsciously come to rest on Bruce's arm. "Look at Harvey Dent, the new district attorney."

I shied away as Bruce stared intently at me for a moment. "I am. Closely."

There were a few clicks as Bruce keyed something into the computer and several video clips appeared on the large screen. In the window on top of the others, Harvey Dent, tall and blond and quite handsome climbed out of a cab and, after extending his hand back into the darkness of the backseat, pulled Rachel Dawes into place beside him. They walked across the pavement, pushing through a crowd of people with microphones and cameras, flashes going off on every side. If there had been sound, there would have been yelling, people trying desperately to get the attention of the new district attorney and ask him questions about what he intended to do with Gotham's mob problem. Dent and his ambitions had gained him the title of Gotham's White Knight, and everyone was curious how their knight was going to save them.

My eyes, once Rachel had climbed from the back of the cab, didn't leave that window, didn't leave her face. Alfred must have noticed or just wanted to continue his attempt to lighten the mood in the Batbunker.

"Are you interested in Mr. Dent or his social circle, Master Wayne?"

Bruce started to deny that he wasn't keeping an eye on Rachel, that he wasn't following her actions—which was a blatant lie, as she was in _every_ one of the video clips and _every_ one of the photos—and I snorted, trying to keep my sardonic laughter contained; Bruce and I didn't need to fight about Rachel too. We had enough other things to argue about without that on the plate as well. Alfred looked at me as the noise escaped my mouth and half-smiled, an eyebrow raised.

"I think Ms. Black agrees with my assumption."

Bruce looked at me again, a strange expression on his face.

I burst out laughing, and didn't know why; I had expected to be angry at the reiteration of Bruce's love for Rachel, and here I was _laughing _for God's sake. Maybe then tension just needed to be broken and I had taken the odd look as the cue to do so. Alfred chuckled quietly beside me and Bruce even smiled a little bit. When I had calmed down, I looked at Bruce as seriously as I could manage. I was still smiling a little bit, but it was better than nothing.

"I'm going to head home so I can change and get ready for the meeting," I said, sliding off the stool and grabbing my bag, discarded at the foot of the desk.

Bruce nodded. "We'll pick you up on our way to Wayne Enterprises."

I slid my feet into my flip-flops and shouldered by bag, my eyes staying on Bruce. Against any will I had, a small smile took over my face and I felt my cheeks darken with an unwanted blush. Bruce didn't smile, just kept my eyes with his. He nodded once and I stepped away from the desk, heading to the lift; once I broke the eye contact with Bruce, I was able to keep moving. I even kept my back turned as I rose back into Gotham proper because I knew, if I looked back at the Batbunker, I would want to stay. But I worked for Lucius too, and I wanted to know what was going on, so I needed to be at this meeting. Unfortunately, we couldn't bug the offices. If we could, I would have tapped in via the headset I was becoming so fond of and stayed in Bat Central.

I drove home in a half-alert state, which probably wasn't the best idea. There was no loud barking when I walked into my apartment—Blaze was at my parent's house—so I just meandered into the bathroom, stripped down and climbed into a hot shower. The steaming water served to wake me up and then lull me farther into a walking sleep as heat was wont to do. When I climbed out, the air, cold by contrast, brought me right into full alertness; with another cup or three of coffee, I might even be able to stay awake through the meeting this time. Quickly, I pulled on a black skirt, navy blue blouse and slipped my feet into the black heels that were still extremely painful because they hadn't been sufficiently broken in yet. I brushed my hair and sprayed some stuff in it so it wouldn't turn into a puffy mass, and left it to air dry. As I started switching the contents of my bag into a purse, the buzzer sounded. Bruce and Alfred were downstairs, waiting. I hurried down to the elevator and by the time I had climbed into the backseat of the car beside Bruce, I was wishing I hadn't picked my new heels. Hindsight's twenty-twenty.

"Sore feet?" Bruce asked as he noticed the wincing.

"Shut up."

He listened and also handed me another thermos full of coffee. I sighed, relived because I forgot to make myself some of the rejuvenating liquid, and immediately filled the proffered mug.

"Are you going to talk to Lucius about the suit today?"

"After the meeting."

I nodded and took another long drink. "How long do you think it'll take to fabricate a new suit?"

"For Lucius? Not long. I've got some ideas sketched out, and he works fast. Plus, he's got five very efficient teams who work on different parts of things for Batman and they he puts them together. It'll probably only take a week."

"Yeah, of round-the-clock working." I only sounded bitter because I'd had to work for a day and a half straight once and I never planned on doing it again. Unless it was for Batman, but that didn't really feel like work, and I had a feeling it never would be work. It was something I wanted to do, and Bruce was someone I would do anything for. I knew that and he knew that. He didn't really take enough advantage of that, but that wasn't the way Bruce operated.

He nodded in agreement, but didn't say anything. He knew how many hours went into developing the tools he used. I only knew because I was often in charge of the production files and inventory and all that fun stuff. I knew how much money everything cost as well, but clearly, to Bruce Wayne money was no object.

Alfred pulled the car into Bruce's parking spot and he and I climbed out of the back seat, me groaning and my weight settled on my feet and they were pushed farther into the damned shoes. Bruce shook his head and slipped an arm around my waist, taking some of my weight. He whispered something about getting better shoes and I tried to ignore the fire in my body and the electricity and the blush rapidly over my face, ears and neck. In the elevator, I surrendered and took my shoes off and padded across the lobby to my desk and dropped my bag and shoes off and then headed into the expansive boardroom, ignoring the strange looks at my bare-footedness as I sat confidently in the chair beside Bruce. I kept a wide smile on my face and, down the table a way, Lucius smiled and shook his head at my little display, quite used to them now. And oh yes, I enjoyed that I could get away with these sorts of things sometimes, only because I was friends with the owner of the company.

The LSI Holdings meet proceeded much the same as the one before, expect that I managed to stay awake and Bruce was the one who fell asleep. Except, I was guessing, he wasn't _really _asleep but I wasn't really paying attention. After the very first LSI Holdings meeting, Bruce had done some digging into the revenue of the Chinese company and he was sure there were some mob connections or other law-breaking methods to the perfect increase every year. He wanted Lucius' opinion and I knew that Coleman Reese—who spent the meeting staring disapprovingly down the table at the sleeping Bruce and my wandering eyes—had been reviewing the numbers as well; I would probably get another speech about proper meeting behaviour. Bah.

When the meeting had _finally _finished three hours later, I "woke" Bruce up so he could bid farewell to his guests. I hung around the board room, ambling up and down the lengthy space with Lucius watching my movement.

"May I inquire as to the whereabouts of your shoes, Eleanor?"

I smiled at my boss. "They're at my desk. I thought it would be a good idea to wear a pair of new heels—I was wrong."

The tall African-American man retained his grin as Bruce rejoined us in the board room. I moved to join the men at the floor to ceiling window and realized how exceptionally short I felt next to them without shoes; both of them were over six feet tall and I was stuck at an average five foot eight. I sighed and leaned against the window, listening as they talked about the mechanics of the new suit.

"You want to be able to turn your head," Lucius stated.

Bruce nodded. "It'd sure make backing out the driveway easier." He looked at me as I snorted a laugh and then rolled his eyes, smiling a little, mostly to himself. "How long do you think it'll take?"

Lucius Fox stroked his chin in thought for a moment. "Well, there's a prototype armour system downstairs we can use as a starting point, so it shouldn't take that long. I'll keep you informed of our progress." He turned to look down at me, his fatherly eyes sparkling like they usually were. "And should I be keeping you informed as well, Eleanor?"

I grinned and jabbed my thumb in the general direction of Bruce. "Eh, if you tell him, I'll know. Oh, and I'll have the reports done for you tonight."

"Well, that's good, even though I was expecting them _yesterday_."

I blushed out of embarrassment and looked at my bare feet, toenails still painted blue from the last time I'd had the gumption to do something girly. "I apologize Mr. Fox… I was… caught up in something else."

"I understand Eleanor, but please don't let it happen again. If you can't handle both your responsibilities, maybe it's time to let one of them go." Lucius smiled when I looked up at him, and I knew he was talking about my job at Wayne Enterprises. He placed a hand on my shoulder and then turned and walked out of the boardroom, saying a goodbye to Bruce as he passed.

"He's right you know. If you can't handle both, you should just pick one."

"Shut up," I snapped, harsher then I should have. I kept myself from smiling however, and managed a glare. "I'll be fine doing both. Don't you worry about me." Following Lucius' path, I stalked back to my desk and flopped in my chair, the seat turning with my weight. It made one full rotation before Bruce stopped it. He stared down at me intently, incredibly serious and I sighed, surrendering. "_Fine_. I'll think about quitting my job _here_. But only_, only _if I can't handle both. And I haven't been trying to keep up both jobs that long, so you can't make a judgement yet. OK, well, you can, but you shouldn't." I pointed my index finger in his face, keeping the tip an inch from his nose. "That's not fair. Give me a chance."

"_Fine_. But remember," Bruce grabbed my hand and pushed it down, out of his face and pinned it to the arm of the chair. "I can still fire you from your _other _job."

"_Fine_. I'm going to stay here until later, getting some of the work I need to get finished."

Bruce let my hand go. "I'll see you later then."

"After your date?"

* * *

I had a date that night, with the prima ballerina of the Moscow ballet, and I wasn't particularly looking forward to it. Not until we got to the restaurant—one of the over-priced, over-fancy places I'd bought as a stunt to serve only my reputation as a frivolous billionaire—and found Harvey Dent sitting with Rachel Dawes. As soon as I saw her, sitting there and laughing, I started looking forward to the evening, but it had nothing to do with my company. I watched Rachel through most of dinner; how she acted towards and with Harvey, her body language, the way she looked at him. At me. I listened to the conversation, mostly between Natasha and Harvey, but I kept my eyes on Rachel.

Until the conversation turned to Batman.

Then I listened.

Eleanor was already in the bunker when I arrived. There was a short burst of anger, but it faded quickly. She really wasn't going anywhere. I was getting used to it, but it would take time. I wasn't used to having to share my territory with anyone other than Alfred.

"How was your date?" Eleanor asked as the lift clicked into place and I started across the bunker; the heels of my dress shoes clicking loudly on the concrete.

"I'm throwing a fundraiser for Harvey Dent." There was an emphasis on the "t" that I hadn't meant to use.

Eleanor turned around on her stool and raised an eyebrow at my answer. She ran her fingers backwards through her hair—a habit I wasn't sure she knew she had—the corner of her mouth twitching with something contained. "Oh. I didn't realize your date was with Gotham's DA." She took my glare with effortless grace and flashed her smirk at me. After a minute, she surrendered. "_Sorry._ So how did you end up having to throw Mr. Dent one of your oh-so-glamorous parties anyway?"

I sat on the empty stool beside Eleanor. "Natasha and I ran into Harvey and Rachel at the restaurant. We put our tables together and the conversation naturally turned to Dent's plans for Gotham, and what he thought of the Batman—"

"And you were so moved by his sentiments that you just _had _to get him millions of dollars?"

There was something off about her attitude, but if she didn't want to talk about it, I wasn't going to pry. Eleanor wasn't the type of woman to keep things inside for very long: if it was bothering her enough, she'd let it out. Until then, if it happened, I was going to take her comments and short temperedness. I sighed. "Would you like to come with me to the fundraiser?" I asked instead of going along with her anger. It wasn't something Eleanor would normally say yes too, since she had a profound dislike for dancing and tended to get drunk at any social event, but I had a feeling she'd want to be there this time, if only to rub it in Rachel's face that she was there with me; I didn't understand the animosity between the two women, and it wasn't something I was terribly keen on getting involved in anymore than I already was.

Eleanor's eyes dropped to the ground, but I could still see the blush on her cheeks and the tops of her ears. "Sure," she finally answered quietly.

I didn't say anything else as I walked over to where the Batsuit hung.

"Will we have to make any special preparations? Move the suit or something like that?" Eleanor's voice was louder, stronger, normal. She seemed to be adjusting quickly to her role.

I shrugged out of my suit jacket and hung it on the intended hook. "Yes. We should prepare for the worst situation."

"I'll get on that."

As I changed into the suit I felt more comfortable in than anything business-related, I listened to the clicking of her fingers on one of the several keyboards. I didn't think what I'd told her earlier was true. I didn't think I could ever fire her.

* * *

**Author's Note… **So, I bought The Dark Knight movie guide thingy and it turns out the cast and crew called it the Batbunker too. I thought that was kind of hilarious, because I'd never seen that anywhere before I started calling it that. Great minds think alike, eh? (sticks tongue out) Bah. Eight.

Sorry it took me so long to update this fic—I hope you all still read it and enjoy it. I just really wanted to finish Reflections off so I could move on. This fic will be my main concentration now, but I will also be working on Joke's On You, So please read both and enjoy them, because I think both are going to turn out to be pretty nifty. Oh, and check out Slow Dancing in a Burning Room, which comes after this fic: Chances Are. I just didn't want to wait until I was done this one to post it because I like it so much. And now that I'm done with the shameless promoting of my stuff…

**Next Chapter: Mob Banks and Escape Plans. **Eleanor sinks further into her self-induced hermitage, but finally manages to win one of her fights. Lucius offers some reassuring words to said hermit and Batman is given a difficult task in a jurisdiction he never considered his before.


	5. Chapter Five: Mob Banks and Escape Plans

I do not own **Batman**. Sucks, don't it? I do own Eleanor Black and all the other characters and plot points that aren't part of the movie. Rated T for the same reasons the movie was rated PG-13. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chances Are…  
**Chapter Five: Mob Banks and Escape Plans

* * *

The police chose early the next morning—pre-dawn early, not Batman early—to try and seize the banks where they knew the various mobs were keeping their money. Wrapped in a blanket I had thought to bring with me to avoid freezing, I listened to their scanners and walkie-talkies, not at all surprised as I heard noises of failure and frustration. The various mobs of Gotham City had somehow figured out what was going on and prepared for it. They'd moved their money. The only question was how had they found out? And, for that matter, how did they move _so _much money _so _quickly. I wasn't sure—didn't have the faintest idea, actually—but I told myself that was only because I hadn't achieved any rejuvenating sleep in a while and my brain wasn't functioning at its normal capacity. I liked to think that if I had been well-rested and in the best shape I could have been, I would have had the power to figure it out. Or maybe that was just my desire to be of help to Batman. Or maybe I just wanted to get some detective skills of my own…

Once the raid-of-oh-so-unhappy-results was over, I removed the headset from my ears and yawned loudly, my voice echoing off the walls of the currently empty Batbunker. I stretched up to the ceiling and picked up my cell phone as my limbs descended to normal height, almost subconsciously pressing the buttons to speed-dial Bruce's cell; he had been in and out of the bunker about an hour and a half before, changing faster than I'd ever seen him, for some reason I wasn't exactly sure of and didn't really care about. If he'd needed me at a meeting or something, he would have told me.

There were three rings before he answered. _"What is it?" _he asked.

"Ah, good morning to you too." I couldn't resist being a pain. It had been a while since I'd been able to flex my sarcasm muscle. Tired as I was—and hey, this is _me_ we're talking about—the urge to annoy just couldn't be overpowered.

I could almost _hear_ Bruce roll his eyes. _"Good morning, then. Now, what is it? Do you have any news?"_

Now I rolled my eyes as I got to my bare feet and began a circuit around the desk, using muscles that had been stationary for far too long. The concrete was cold. It served to somewhat wake me up. "Gordon and his men made to seize the mob banks about ten minutes ago." Bruce must be at Wayne Enterprises not to have heard anything; I had begun to realize I was his only source for immediate information when he himself wasn't plugged in. "They failed. All the money was already gone when they got there. They were just heading back to the MCU when I took the headset off, and yes, before you asked, I unplugged the headphones so I can still what's going on while I'm talking to you on the phone. I'm not going to miss anything."

He sighed. _"All right. Well why don't you go home and get some rest? You've been down there for almost twenty-four hours straight." _

"So? You've been down here longer."

_"I don't have another job to do. When I saw Lucius last night, he asked me to remind you that you have an inventory report due tomorrow and three conference calls to take part in pertaining to the development of new Wayne Enterprises products."_

"I know that. I've been working on the report and I've been prepared for the conference calls for weeks. I told you I could manage my job at Wayne Enterprises _and _this job as your assistant or whatever the hell it is I am." I narrowed my eyes at nothing in particular and clenched my teeth. I could hear the beginnings of an argument in his voice and I knew, in my current state, that I would fight back even though I knew it would most likely be the same fight we'd had many times before. "I can handle my work, Bruce. And I already told you I'm not going anywhere."

_"I'm not asking you to go anywhere. I'm just saying you should get some rest."_ There was a definite edge to Bruce's voice now, and I knew, somewhere in the part of my mind that was still rational, that I was turning a semi-normal conversation into an argument. _"But you really should think about spending less time down there in 'Bat Central'. You don't need to be down there, Eleanor. Not as much as you have been—"_

I stopped my circuit, ending up beside the Tumbler. "Bruce! We have been over this! And my side of the argument has _not _changed! I'm not going anywhere, Bruce! I lo—"

_"I—"_

"I _love_ you Bruce." I paused for a moment, but he didn't say anything, so I continued. "I want to help you. I'm going to help you. It's just so igitating when you continue to push me away!"

There was a lengthy pause in which I realized what I'd just said. _"Did you just say 'igitating'?" _

"Shut up, I'm…" My voice trailed off and I pressed my lips together in a thin line. What I had been about to say would have confirmed his side of today's argument.

_"Tired? Go home and get some rest." _

"I'm coming back."

Bruce didn't say anything for a moment, although I heard him sigh. It wasn't an annoyed sigh. It was a consenting sort of a sigh. At least, I hoped it was. _"I know that. I know you'll come back Ellie. Just go home and get some rest right now. There's nothing for you to do down there anyway." _

Smiling to myself and feeling as if I had won a small victory, I nodded to nothing in particular. "Sounds good to me. I'll talk to you later," I said, and without waiting for him to reply, I hung up my phone and slipped it into my pocket. Deciding to actually honour my promise and wanting to get some recuperative rest for a change, I returned to the main computer station and gathered up my things, shoving them in my large bag and swinging it on my shoulder. I searched around for a moment, finding one flip-flop under the stool and the other one ten feet away on the floor. "How the hell did this get all the way over here?" I briefly wondered before slipping the shoe on my foot. I must have kicked it away by accident. When I was plugged in and listening to something, I tended to become completely absorbed and missed much of what was going on around me. The other day I had found a batarang lying in the middle of nowhere and it was only after serious thought that I remembered throwing it out of boredom while I was listening to the police scanner and hearing nothing of interest.

Once I had everything safely packed away and the large bag secured on my shoulder, I double-checked that all the equipment was still on and doing what it was supposed to. Satisfied, I crossed the bunker and stepped onto the lift. The weight-sensors activated and the section of floor lifted upwards. As the doors of the cargo-crate-turned-lift opened, I blinked at the early sunlight bouncing off the water to my right and my bright blue car to my left. It was warm and calm, a pleasant morning, but I couldn't help feeling a little miffed about having to leave the bunker. With a start, I realized I was becoming quite the hermit or recluse or whatever you want to call people who don't venture into the outdoors much. I also realized that I didn't really care. I climbed into my car and drove rapidly home—the streets were pretty much empty this early in the morning—and entered my apartment after a quiet elevator ride. Since Blaze was still at my parents' house, there was no barking or jumping to greet me; I made a mental note to go and visit Blaze at some point before heading back to the bunker that night. I did miss my dog. I unpacked my bag and left it sitting empty on the kitchen counter, knowing I would be packing it as soon as I woke up and there was no need to put it away in the closet. Plus, if I did that, I might never find it again.

As I was heading past the divider into my bedroom that didn't really feel like it was mine anymore, the phone rang. I moved over to the table beside the couch and glared at the blinking light that said I had fourteen new messages. "Hello?" I said as I picked up the phone.

_"Ah, hello Eleanor. I'm glad I could reach you at home. You never answer you cell phone anymore," _Lucius Fox said with a smile in his voice.

"Hm… Sorry about that Mr. Fox."

_"It's quite all right Eleanor, but I was hoping you could come in for a few minutes to pick up some things for Mr. Wayne. He left before I could give it to him this morning," _Lucius said. The tone told me what he wanted me to deliver to Bruce had to do with Batman.

"Yeah, I'll be right in."

_"Thank you. And perhaps you'd care to take a look at the progress of the new suit?"_

"Oh, I'd like that!" I grinned widely, momentarily not tired anymore. "I'll be there in half an hour. Bye," I said before I replaced the phone on the hook.

As I headed back into my bathroom, I pressed the "play" button on my answering machine and prepared myself to listen to my mother's voice asking again and again why I wasn't answering my phone. I wasn't disappointed. Seven of the messages were from Naomi, increasing from calm to downright panic as they played. She wanted to know why I wouldn't answer my phone and why I hadn't called her back and why I hadn't come to visit in a while and why I was never at home. Evidently, I'd have to start answering my cell phone for people other than Bruce or Alfred or my Mom might resort to drastic actions to find out the answers for herself. There were three messages from Liam telling me to please pick up the phone to save my mother's sanity and his eardrums. Two messages were from Lucius Fox, both about work, one asking how the report was coming and the other reminding me about the conference calls. One message was from the landlord of the building, telling me my rent was going up, which was something I'd already guessed was going to happen, and the last message was someone from the cable company talking about some packaged deal that didn't apply to me because I was never home anymore and I didn't have the same phone and cable company anyway.

Deciding I wouldn't call my Mom but talk to her when I went to visit Blaze later, I stripped down and hopped into a hot shower, the heat initially lulling me farther into sleep. The cold blast of air that hit me as soon as I stepped out of the shower however, snapped me into near-to full alertness. I dressed in black suit pants and my favourite bright blue button-down shirt, slipping a pair of well-worn ankle boots onto my feet that were much more comfortable than any of my other office-suitable shoes. I transferred everything I thought I'd need into my regular-sized purse and once again headed down to the car. The drive to Wayne Enterprises was a little slower than it would have normally been, as the morning commute had begun. I turned up the radio while I lounged in traffic and sung half-heartedly along to the songs I knew and tried very hard not to think about the Batbunker. By the time I'd parked underneath Wayne Tower and made my way all the way to the top where Lucius' office was located, it had been closer to forty-five minutes than half and hour and I was apologizing even before I landed in the chair in front of Lucius Fox's large desk. He hushed me with a gesture and a stern yet comforting look before pouring me a cup of coffee from the pot on the table beside his desk. Once the steaming mug was in my hands, he settled back in his chair and fixed his appraising brown eyes on me.

"How are you Eleanor?" he asked. It sounded like a simple question, but there was an ulterior meaning.

"I'm fine," I said truthfully. "A little tired and worn out, but fine. I'll have everything done for you on time, if that's what you're asking," I added with a look only slightly disdainful.

Lucius' smile tightened as he nodded. "I was getting to that, but I'm more concerned with how you are handling your situation. You _look _worn out, Eleanor. How long do you think you can keep this up?"

"As long as I have to." My posture straightened as my stubbornness flared. The emotion faded as soon as I remembered who I was talking to. "I _can _do this Lucius. Now, you said you had some things for me to deliver to Mister Wayne?" I settled back in the chair and sipped my coffee. Lucius sighed before withdrawing several thick folders from a pile on his desk. He slid them across the desk into my hands and I unceremoniously stuffed them in my purse. Bruce would berate me for the condition of the documents later if he felt so inclined, so the disapproving look on Lucius' face had no real effect. It probably should have. "Is that all you wanted me to deliver?"

Lucius sighed. "Yes. Now, I suppose you'd like to see the suit?"

All the grumpiness or whatever it was vanished instantly and I felt my face break into a grin. Lucius took that as the obvious yes and led me to an elevator concealed in the bookshelf on the other side of his office that would take us down to the subbasement levels of Wayne Enterprises. It wasn't a matter of secrecy as everyone or almost everyone knew the defunct department existed, but other than those authorized—Bruce, Lucius, and I—he didn't want anyone entering applied sciences where the completed things for Batman were kept alongside the gadgets no one would buy. Whenever something new was being designed and built, it was done in different sections and then assembled by Lucius or Bruce. As the lift descended I was reminded of the long inventory treks I had taken through the cavernous room in what seemed a lifetime ago but was, in reality, only a year or so. The lift settled quietly into its station at the bottom of the shaft and the doors opened almost immediately. As we stepped out into the concrete cavern, the fluorescent lights above fluttered to life, casting a white-blue glow on the techno-wonderland filling the room. I followed Lucius through the vast room. In the middle of one of the long rows, between a metal cabinet and something that was covered with a white sheet, Lucius stopped and gestured to another metal cabinet, this one with its top propped open and a portable workbench unfolded beside it.

I stepped closer and onto my tiptoes so I could peer at the black material in the top section. "What's it made of?"

"The actual armour is made of hardened Kevlar and fashioned into separate plates. The pieces will be attached onto on a titanium-dipped fibre tri-weave fabric to allow for more flexibility which is what our vigilante friend requested. It's not completely assembled yet, but I have put together most of the chest piece." Lucius leaned forward and pulled open a drawer about waist-high. "Have a look."

Inside the drawer, what was obviously the armour that would cover Bruce's chest and stomach, sat arranged in a dense foam-like material. It was smooth and black, and across the main piece, the bat which had become Bruce's symbol was embossed. It was incredible armour; no less than I had expected from Wayne Enterprises, but still. I ran my fingers gently over the edges of the bat symbol and tried to imagine seeing it from the eyes of a criminal. Tried to imagine what it was they felt before Bruce knocked them into unconsciousness. I couldn't do it. I knew they were usually scared, but I just couldn't bring myself to fear the Batman. Not even hypothetically.

"Eleanor… what are you doing?"

I withdrew my hand, surprised at the question. "I didn't think it would be a problem for me to touch it."

"That's not what I meant. I meant with Bruce. With _Batman_."

"Oh…"

I paused. It was not like Lucius to ask such a personal question. Not so out of blue like this. OK, so maybe it wasn't out of the blue, but it still had caught me off guard. I stared down at the suit piece in front of me and asked myself that same question over and over. I knew the answer of course, but I wasn't sure if I should divulge those feelings to Lucius. What if he thought it an immature attempt at getting what I wanted? What if he thought my feelings were ill-founded? No, he wouldn't think those things. Well, if he did, he wouldn't voice them. Not quite so… harshly. Sighing, I looked up at Lucius, a small frown on my lips.

"I… I love him, Lucius," I said quietly. "I love Bruce Wayne and this—locking myself in the bunker and doing whatever Batman needs—is the _only _way I can get close and _stay _close to him. This is the _only _way I can be with him. I'm afraid that… that if I leave Batman's world, that if I remove myself from this position, I'll fade from his life." I ran my fingers around the edge of the symbol again, slowly, as if I was getting answers from the contact. "I… The only time I'll see him will be at parties when he's acting like a complete idiot. Look at Rachel! She loved Bruce, maybe she still does, but she doesn't want Batman and she just keeps getting farther and farther away, no matter how hard Bruce tries to keep her close!" Unwanted, my eyes began to burn and my nose suddenly felt full. I sobbed once, the tears falling quicker than I could stop them. "I can't lose him…" My hand balled into a fist on top of the bat symbol.

Slowly, as if he was unsure his actions would be welcome, Lucius stepped forward and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, holding me tightly as I cried. Everything I had kept inside while talking to Bruce, while thinking about the awkward situation I had placed myself in, was coming out in unrestrained torrents; all the fear, anger and doubt. To the one person I had never even considered telling. Eventually the tears did pass. But the damage—if you could call it that—had been done. Lucius knew how I really felt and what was keeping me locked up in the Batbunker. I didn't know what he'd do with that information, but he was the only other person who knew the complete truth of how I felt. I'm sure Alfred had guessed it, and maybe even Bruce had, but I had never told them outright.

After I had calmed down, Lucius and I returned to his office, where I drank another cup of coffee and listened as Lucius told me about the new suit and the Batpod: a motorcycle type vehicle that they had worked into the construction of the Tumbler, and the only piece of technology in the bunker I had never seen.

* * *

I spent the rest of the morning in the backyard of my parent's house, playing with the dogs and talking to my Mom, spewing some story about how I'd been super busy with work for Lucius. I added in some detail about taking on assistant duties for Bruce and while my mother was thrilled at the idea of Bruce and I spending more time together, she was decidedly less thrilled about me being worked half to death. She stood on the back porch rambling on and on about how I should take better care of myself while I meandered back and forth through the grass throwing the various things the dogs brought back to my feet. I knew she was right, but as I didn't seem to be in the habit of listening to people lately, I largely ignored her nagging and devoted the majority of my attention to the dogs.

This was no small feat, as with Blaze at the mansion, there were four dogs gallivanting around the expansive yard. Three of the dogs were big enough to knock down a full grown human: Blaze, who was the smallest of the three, Bear, who was a Norwegian Elkhound my mother had adopted, and Shazir, who was clearly the most unique of all the dogs my family had ever owned as she was a wolf-dog who resembled a wolf more than any dog I'd ever seen. Last, but not least, even though he was the smallest, was Beast, a black Pug who ran like the wind to keep up with his larger companions and who could bark louder than the others combined. Playing with the dogs was a suitable way to ignore the nagging need to go back to the Batbunker, even though Naomi's constant chattering made me want to run right back to the cave-substitute. I loved my Mom, but man, could she talk.

"Eleanor, are you listening?"

"Yeah," I mumbled throwing a very damp stick for Beast; the branch was almost twice as long as his body.

"Don't lie to me." The tone of Naomi's voice made me turn around. She was looking at me with her best angry-mom look, her green eyes as dark as I'd ever seen them. "What is _wrong _with you Eleanor? You're not acting like yourself." I sighed, feeling the tears well up inside me again. After talking to Lucius, anytime my thoughts drifted to my rather desperate situation, I started getting all weepy. Naomi's angry demeanour faltered as she saw the tears bud in my eyes and she descended the porch stairs and throw her arms around me. "Oh _Ellie_!" she explained with her subconscious flair for the dramatic. "What is it?"

I pushed away from her comforting embrace and wiped the few tears that had managed to escape from my cheeks. "Nothing Mom, it's… nothing." What could I tell her? Talking about my feelings would lead to me talking about Batman and Bruce, and my Mom was smart enough to figure out they were one in the same just because I felt the same way about them. Or, she might be. I wasn't going to take the chance in any case. "I'm just… tired."

"Get some rest."

My life was starting to sound like a broken record.

Maybe I should listen.

* * *

After a long day of being "Bruce Wayne: Billionaire Extraordinaire", I had been more than relieved to don the cowl and cape of Batman and take the darkening streets of Gotham. Eleanor had been back in the bunker when I arrived, looking significantly more well-rested than she had in a long time. Regardless, there had been something off about her countenance and the way she sat slumped at the desk. Answers to the questions I asked were short and free of her usual sarcasm, and she hadn't looked at me once. When I had left the bunker, she maintained radio silence and stuck to listening to the police scanner. I didn't pay her odd behaviour much more mind as I ventured into the streets. If there was something wrong and she wanted to talk about it, she would.

I had only been patrolling the rooftops for a short while when the Batsignal appeared on the clouds above the Major Crimes Unit. It seemed a little early for Gordon to use the signal—he usually waited until the early hours of the morning. The Tumbler slid easily into a dark alley near the police station and I grappled to the roof where I landed in the shadows and was surprised to see not only the familiar face of Jim Gordon, but also Harvey Dent, the new district attorney; rather than his usual calm, he appeared very flustered and impatient. He and the police lieutenant were arguing. The conversation didn't improve much once my presence had been noted. Lau of LSI Holdings, who's business and his earnings had been suspect to me for a long time, had disappeared from Gotham, apparently around the same time as all the mob money had vanished from the bank vaults. There was no doubt he was involved.

"We need Lau back," Dent said, hands on his hips and doing his best to implore the importance of the situation on me. It was not needed.

"If I get him to you, can you get him to talk?" I asked.

"I'll get him to sing."

That was all I needed to hear. I dropped back down to where the Tumbler sat hidden; thanks to the hearing devices in the ears of my cowl, I heard the conversation continue above me. I had started Dent with my sudden departure.

Eleanor was still in her despondent mood when I returned around three. She looked quite worn out again, but I didn't say anything about it. Her tendency to argue was more than likely amplified in her current state. "I'm going to Hong Kong," I said as I removed the cowl and returned it to the hook. The sudden statement had the desired effect: she turned and look back at me, surprise and confusion on her face. "After Lau."

She turned back to the computer screens as I changed into the jeans and t-shirt Alfred had left waiting. "Why do you have to go?"

There was worry in her voice, but I knew she wouldn't elaborate on it. I was grateful for that fact, as, had I been talking to Rachel, she would have done everything she could to deter me from going. "The Chinese won't extradite a national under any circumstances. If he's going to talk—and Dent assures me he can get him to talk—I've got to get him back to Gotham first."

"What about your party for Dent?"

"It can wait until we get back."

"We?"

"Don't you want to come?"

Eleanor paused, which was an action that added something else weird to her behaviour. I had never known her to pass up a chance to help Batman. To help me. "I'm… not sure," she mumbled. She turned to look at me and the confusion I'd seen in her face earlier was more than present in her cobalt eyes. There _was _something wrong. Still, I didn't pry. "I'll think about it. Shouldn't I stay here and monitor Gotham while you're gone? The Joker isn't going anywhere… Someone should keep an eye on him, right?" She was trying to rationalize her out of character decision.

"It's up to you."

"Then I'd like to sleep on it."

Without saying anything else, she gathered her things and moved to stand by the lift. I looked around the bunker, and deciding there was nothing I could do tonight that couldn't be done at the penthouse—namely, figuring out what new gadgets I'd need from Lucius and Wayne Enterprises to pull off the mission in Hong Kong—I followed her up and out. Without any protesting, she consented when I suggested she spent the night at the penthouse instead of driving all the way back to her apartment, especially when she was so tired. We took her car—there was no point in calling Alfred when she and I were headed to the same place—and when we arrived, she walked straight to the guest room and shut the door.

"Did something happen?" Alfred asked, appearing almost as silently as I did as Batman, burdened with a tray holding a put of coffee and a large mug. The butler always seemed to know what I needed it and when.

I stared at the door for a moment. "I'm not sure, Alfred."

"I am sure we will find out when Miss Black is ready to ask for help, Master Bruce."

I nodded. "Alfred, has the computer been linked with the system in the bunker?" He seemed a little shocked by the sudden change of topic, but as was Alfred's way, he recovered quickly and nodded. "Good. We'll be taking a trip to Hong Kong to retrieve Mister Lau."

"All in the quest for justice, I assume?"

"I'll be needing an alibi for Bruce Wayne's extended absence from the city."

"I'm sure I'll come up with something."

* * *

**Author's Note… **So I lied in the last chapter when I told you all this fic would be my main concentration… Oh well. Sorry about that. I just go where my creative mind takes me. Bear with a writer-in-training, will you? Thanks darlings. (beams) As it's been a while since I wrote anything Batman, there might be a little out-of-character-ness and I apologize. I also apologize for the lack-lusterness of this chapter. I've been totally Trekker-brained lately, so it was hard for me to focus on Batman. Never fear, I will continue to write Batman no matter how much I'm in space!

Oh, and "igitating" is a combination of "aggravating" and "irritating". I accidentally said it once. (sticks tongue out)

Here's a question: In Batman: The Animated Series, why do the police all fly blimps?

**Next Chapter: The Importance of Instructions. **Maybe we _should_ read the instruction manual first…


	6. Chapter Six: Importance of Instructions

I do not own **Batman**. Sucks, don't it? I do own Eleanor Black and all the other characters and plot points that aren't part of the movie. Rated T for the same reasons the movie was rated PG-13. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chances Are…  
**Chapter Six: The Importance of Instructions.

* * *

It was only dawn when I awoke, but I could tell there was movement in the penthouse; Alfred would be preparing breakfast as it wasn't very often I was actually around for a proper first meal anymore. Gotham was stirring as I dressed and headed downstairs, the normal roar of the city just beginning to build. As I crossed the main room of the penthouse, I was surprised to see Eleanor in the kitchen as well as Alfred. She was sitting on the counter, reading the morning paper and sipping coffee from her favourite large blue mug as Alfred bustled around her, preparing food. I was surprised to find she was already dressed in her clothes for work as she had never been ready before me. As if sensing my thoughts as I approached, she smiled a little smugly at me over the rim of her mug and folded the newspaper, setting it beside her as she hopped down to the floor and took a seat at the table. I returned the smile and sat down across from her. She seemed to be in a much better mood than the night before. It struck me that I'd hadn't seen her looking this happy in a while.

"Good morning," she said as if nothing had ever been wrong.

"Morning," I replied. Alfred brought me a mug of coffee as well and I could feel his smile as he headed back into the kitchen. This was the most normal morning we'd had in a very long time and I had no doubt that he was overjoyed to have Eleanor spending so much time around the penthouse and the bunker. "What's got you in such a good mood this morning?" I asked, picking a piece of toast off the plate in the middle of the table.

"I'm not allowed to be exited for you to see the new Batsuit? It is _very_ cool."

I had forgotten she'd gone to see it the day before. Her excitement made me smile again. "All right then." I finished the piece of toast I'd been holding. "Are you ready to go?"

"I've been ready for about half an hour Bruce. And I'm driving this morning." She rose from the table and stretched her arms up towards the high ceiling. As I stood, she slung her purse over her shoulder and slipped her feet into her shoes, the added height bringing her almost to eye level with me. She walked over to the elevator doors and pressed the down button, stepping inside once the doors had opened. I followed her and stood beside her in the car. "When are you having the fundraiser for Dent anyway?" she asked as she fished her keys out of her purse. As was her way, she continued speaking, justifying her question with the reasons behind it. "I have to know when the suit has to be moved by, plus I have to find time to get back to my loft and pick out a dress if I'm going to go to this thing with you and, I assume, two or three other girls." She smirked; she really was feeling better if she was up to making jokes about my public image. "And that's going to take some time if I'm going to be standing beside models."

I smiled at her comment. "After I get Lau back to Gotham."

"Ah yes. Justice before fun." Eleanor just beamed at me when I raised an eyebrow at her.

Downstairs in the parking garage, Eleanor made a show of opening the passenger side door for me as Alfred would have done, even going so far as to add a little bow and put on an exaggerated British accent, before climbing into the driver's seat and starting the car. In the early morning traffic, it took twenty minutes to drive the relatively short distance from the penthouse to Wayne Enterprises; Eleanor sang along with the radio under her breath the whole way and I don't think she realized she was doing it. By the time we were parked in my parking spot at Wayne Enterprises, the sun had risen enough to shine through the spaces between skyscrapers and Eleanor, standing in the parking lot, closed her eyes and turned her face into the sunshine, sighing happily as the sun reflected off the natural red in her hair and warmed her skin. After her moment, we headed into the building and up to the top floor to Lucius' office, where he was, as I expected, waiting for us in front of the private elevator.

"You've got to go to Hong Kong to explain to Mister Lau that Wayne Enterprises can no longer take part in this joint venture," I said as we piled into the small elevator.

"I think, for something like that, a phone call would suffice."

Eleanor, who had wedged herself into the front corner of the elevator, facing me, smiled at Lucius' comment, but didn't say anything, even though I could tell by the look on her face that she agreed. "Well that isn't the only reason I need you to go to Hong Kong. I need you to plant a jamming device inside the building so it's possible to enter it without tripping any alarms and alerting anyone to my presence until I choose." I gauged the look on Lucius' face. He didn't seem at all surprised by my request, if anything, he seemed a little under-whelmed. Well, the jamming signal wasn't my only request. "I'll also need something to make a high altitude jump into Hong Kong." The elevator finished its downward journey and the doors slid open, revealing the vast space that was Applied Sciences and storage for everything there was no use for except for part of Batman's arsenal. It was definitely not an empty room, but the height of the ceilings in combination with its sheer size made it feel that way and it always impressed me.

"You'll need oxygen and stabilizers for that," he said as he hauled open a drawer and pulled out a breathing mask with several tubes coming off of it. He also pulled out an oxygen tank and laid them on a table in front of us. With a glance and a small smile at Eleanor, who was standing beside him, examining the equipment with her usual interest and enthusiasm, he continued speaking. "Although, I must say, compared to your usual requests, this one is pretty straightforward."

I approached the table and stared down at the equipment. "And what about getting back into the plane?"

"I can recommend a good travel agent."

"Without the plane landing." I ignored Eleanor's startled expression and continued to look at Fox.

He was smiling. "Now that's more like it Mister Wayne."

As he walked off down one of the aisles between the equipment, I could see the wheels beginning to turn in his head. Beside me, the wheels in Eleanor's head were also turning. "You want to get back into a plane without it landing? Isn't that kind of impossible? Oh wait; I forgot who I was talking to." She rolled her eyes and followed Lucius. "How the hell is he going to get back into a plane that's still flying?"

"Well, there's nothing down here that could accomplish that, but the CIA developed a program in the sixties to pull their people out of hot spots without the plane landing. It's called Sky Hook. I'll look into it; see how difficult it would be to get a hold of the necessary equipment. Now—" He paused to open another drawer and by the look on Eleanor's face, I guessed this was where the suit was being kept. I looked down at the components of my new suit and smiled. "Here's your new suit. The plates are separated to give you more flexibility. You'll be lighter and faster, but there is a trade off to having the plates spread out. You'll be more vulnerable to knives and gunshots."

As Lucius explained, I reached down and picked up one of the plates that would go on my forearm. The blades popped out as I knew they would, but as I moved to put the piece back into the drawer, the double rows of scalloped blades shot out and embedded themselves in the filing cabinet behind me, narrowly missing Eleanor's head.

"Hey!" she snapped as she jumped out of the way. "Watch where you aim those things!"

"Perhaps you should read the instructions first?" Lucius offered, a small smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Maybe." I turned to Eleanor, who was now standing beside the embedded blades, studying them, running a finger along the edge. I almost laughed at that, at how quickly her attention could be captured. "Sorry Eleanor." I smiled when she turned to look at me and she smiled back, tucking some hair behind her ear. Apology accepted. "Now," I continued, turning back to the suit and Lucius. "How will this hold up against dogs?"

After Lucius assured me that the suit would hold up against cats and that it would be one-hundred percent ready when I left for my extended absence from the city and that he would have the other equipment I needed, the three of us headed upstairs where the board members were already seated, waiting for the meeting to begin. After that there was another meeting, then lunch with a potential new Wayne Enterprises buyer. Eleanor disappeared back to her desk before Lucius and I headed out for said lunch. I knew she had reports to finish and things to do for Lucius and she'd be busy for a while. She'd been making a tremendous effort to get her work for the company done on top of doing all she did for Batman. It was starting to wear on her, no matter how happy she'd looked that morning. I wasn't sure how much longer she'd last doing both jobs, but I knew she'd push it as long as she could. I didn't see her for the rest of the afternoon, but I did see Rachel at the restaurant where the senior board members, the buyers, Lucius and I had lunch. She was with Harvey Dent, which didn't do anything for my mood, and after exchanging pleasantries, the couple headed to their table at the back of the restaurant. I made sure to say goodbye before I departed and my thoughts remained on Rachel and how much I missed her for the rest of the day.

When I finally made it to the bunker after changing out of my suit at the penthouse, Alfred and Eleanor were already there, standing around the large table and looking at a diagram of something. Alfred was leaning on his hands and Eleanor had dragged the armchair over and had her feet on the table, her ankles crossed, and she was flipping through pages of information. The headset was draped around her neck, the long cord stretching across the distance between her and the desk. "What are we looking at?"

Eleanor looked up and smiled in greeting. See seemed more content in the bunker, and around me, than she had in a long time. "I phoned Alfred after we spoke to Lucius this morning and told him what you'd need and he found a plane equipped for the Sky Hook program." She pointed to the large plane on the paper in front of Alfred. "You wear that," she pointed to what looked like a parachute, "and pull the release when you're ready to be picked up and it sends a flashing beacon into the air and then the plane comes and scoops you up using this," she said, pointing to a large "V" on the front of the aircraft. "And then they pull you into the back. At least, that's how I understand it."

"You're quite right Miss Black. The plane is in Arizona. A very nice man said he could have it up and running in a week. And he takes cash." Even after growing up under the care of the British man, Alfred never ceased to amaze me with his vast knowledge of pretty much everything. "Now all that's needed is a flight crew."

I leaned on the table, and racked my brain for a flight crew who would be able to pull this off. The plane couldn't be picked up on radar; this needed to be as quiet as possible. But at the same time, the crew had to be more than capable. "South Korean smugglers," I said suddenly.

Eleanor turned and peered at the air above my head. "Gee, and I thought I was going to see a light bulb you came up with that idea so quickly."

Acknowledging her comment with only the quickest of looks, I turned back to Alfred. "They flew into Pyongyang, under radar the whole way. They'll be able to keep this quiet. Have you thought of an alibi?"

The question was directed at Alfred, who smiled smugly, but it was Eleanor who answered, flashing a devious grin of her own as she got to her feet, her cobalt eyes flashing. She reached under a stack of pages to her left and pulled out a folded newspaper. Once it was flattened out, she pointed to the front page of the Entertainment section, which showed Natasha in the middle of a line of ballerinas. The Moscow Ballet. There was a small photo at the bottom of the article showing Natasha and I on our date. Seemingly pleased with my confused expression, Eleanor's grin grew and she drummed her fingernails on the tabletop. "You're going to take the entire ballet to the Caribbean on your yacht for a week or a few days while the plane's getting fixed. It'll pick you up once it's ready and has the crew on board, you'll do your thing in Hong Kong and then fly right back to Gotham. Alfred and I will make sure the ballerinas get back to Gotham in one piece," she added with a grin more devious than before.

The confused expression only grew. "And _you _thought of this?" I asked. She nodded and I found myself smiling and unsure why I was so amused. "Have you decided to come then?"

She nodded again and ran her fingers backwards through her hair. "I'm going to stay on the boat with Alfred. I'll move the equipment into one of the bedrooms at the house and take the portable stuff onto the boat with me. I should be able to keep an eye on Gotham and you if we can get a strong enough signal. I should even be able to catch a few moments of relaxation in the Caribbean sun."

I continued to smile. "We'll make it work."

* * *

After Bruce had alighted into the city as Batman and Alfred had returned to the penthouse for the night, I was alone in the bunker. That wasn't a strange thing as I had done it many times before and I was comfortable enough in the bunker to be alone, but the relative silence on the police scanner was unnerving and making me very uncomfortable. Batman had stopped two muggings and a small-time drug buy in the past five hours. It was a slow night. A very, very slow night. I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. I had even moved Alfred's armchair over in front of the computers and sat with my feet propped up on the stool with the keyboard in my lap. I switched from the police scanner to the headset after another period of nothing, more for something to do than for any real purpose.

"Have you got anything?" I asked as I flicked imaginary lint off my jeans.

_"No. It's still quiet. There's been nothing from the Joker or from anyone since I stopped that last mugging."_

I sighed. "Are you going to stay out there or turn in early tonight?"

_"I'm going to stay out for a bit longer. You can head home if you want."_

For the first time, I didn't protest and I actually considered going back to the loft to try and get more sleep than I had in a while. Or maybe back to the penthouse, where I was finding myself more comfortable with every visit. Somehow I convinced myself that as soon as I left, something interesting would happen and Bruce would need my help. Or something. I wiggled my butt farther into the chair in a silent act of my decision. "No. I'll stay too. I'm quite comfortable here." Which wasn't a lie. The chair was comfortable and I didn't really want to leave no matter how tired I was. "So, we're leaving late tomorrow then?" I asked, changing the subject.

_"Yes." _

"Hm. I guess I know what I'm doing tomorrow: packing."

_"Call your parents and tell them you're going to Hong Kong with Lucius."_

"Already done, Bats." I smiled to myself as I imagined Bruce rolling his eyes at the nickname, just like he always did. I had come to take some sort of enjoyment in how I could annoy him. "I called the airport and told them you'd be leaving tomorrow evening and they've already started to get the private jet ready with their assurances everything will be as Bruce Wayne likes it for a flight. And I also phoned down to the island house and informed them of your arrival, so everything will be ready when we land tomorrow evening, including all the guest houses and the boat. I'll be occupying the guest house farthest from the main building and the ballerinas, just for your information. Oh, and the newspaper has already got wind of this impromptu vacation and they're writing a story about you taking the entire ballet out of Gotham. I told them you weren't available to comment."

_"Well I guess you're on top of things."_

"I _am _a personal assistant for a living, Batman." I looked down at my watch. Enough time spent chatting. "OK, I'm switching back to the police scanner for a bit now."

Without waiting for a reply I knew wouldn't come anyway, I keyed in the command and once again heard the static of the quiet channels flood my ears. Reports of a breaking and entering crackled over the band, but I didn't bother switching out of police scanner mode, as I knew Bruce would have heard the reports as well and would already be on the move. I settled farther into the chair and kept listening for any breath of the Joker's whereabouts or what he was up to. Whoever this guy was, he was good. So far, he hadn't been heard from or seen unless he wanted to be, so I wasn't counting on anything happening. And I wasn't disappointed. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. So much nothing that I unhooked the headset and wandered around the bunker while I listened to that nothing and let the white noise lull me into a waking sleep.

As I wandered, so did my thoughts, and they eventually landed on doubts Bruce had expressed about my abilities to handle two jobs. I had tried to keep it contained, but Bruce had been right: I was wearing thin. I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep juggling the responsibilities of working at Wayne Enterprises all day and staying up very late working for Batman. I was tired.

"Eleanor."

I started out of my trance and looked at Bruce, who was standing, er, crouching, directly in front of me. "Heh?"

"Are you all right?"

I blinked, trying to get the fuzziness out of my eyes. Had I fallen asleep? It sure felt like I'd just woken up. It was then that I realized I was no longer standing and was slumped against the wall by the entrance to the secret road and my shoulder was very sore. "I… think so." I looked around, trying to figure out how I'd ended up where I was. "I think I just fell asleep while I walking." Bruce looked at me and blinked. "What? Like you've never fallen asleep while you were doing something else, _Batman_."

"You mean besides in the middle of a meeting?"

"You were actually asleep? I thought you were faking to enhance the public image or whatever."

"No, I actually fell asleep."

"Well good job."

Bruce pushed himself back to his feet and then extended his hand to me. I grabbed it and he lifted me almost effortlessly to an upright position; I tried to keep from cheeks from blushing too heavily and massaged the stiffness from my shoulder for something to do. "I also fell asleep while I was talking to Lucius on the phone once," he said with a small smile. The gesture and the mental image brought a smile to my face. "You should head home and pack. We're leaving at six and I don't think the girls—" I sniggered at the way he referred to the ballerinas, but he didn't say anything "—will take kindly to waiting."

"Ha. Like you'd leave without me."

Bruce smirked. "Don't overestimate your importance to this mission."

I paused. Passed over the possible anger. "Mission? Since when are we calling your outings missions?" I ran my fingers through my hair and was relieved to feel it wasn't a tangled mass like it usually was when I woke up. "And what time is it anyway?"

"Seven."

"In the _morning_? You let me sleep that long?!" I groaned. "I had things to finish for Lucius!" Bruce just looked at me. "Oh don't give me that I-could-say-something-to-make-you-feel-like-an-idiot-but-I-won't look. I know it's my own damn fault." As I passed him on the way to the desk, I playfully punched his arm, noticing as I did that he flexed, as if he was preparing to counter the move or something along those lines. "I don't need you to remind me of that." I smiled over my shoulder and ran my fingers back through my hair again. "Ah, I suppose I might be able to get Lucius to forgive me again. It was just a report on the cost of the new Batsuit he wanted done. Not like it was anything important." I gathered my things and shoved them in my bag. "Besides, he's going to Hong Kong." I grinned at Bruce and slipped my finger through the ring of my keys. A thought struck me. "You know… I think you were right."

He raised an eyebrow and put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "You do? About what?"

"The whole two jobs thing. Maybe I shouldn't be doing it." Bruce seemed genuinely surprised. It was my nature to dispute most everything, especially if it came out of his mouth. "I'm sure there are many more qualified people looking to get in at a big company and the business world that could help Lucius and half the stuff I do is just superficial stuff anyway. It has no real weight. Maybe I should just be your personal assistant. Like Bruce Wayne's. And Batman's. That would be a lot less stressful since they are fundamentally the same person."

"If you think that would be easier on you, then that's fine with me. You'll have to tell Lucius though."

"I know."

"And you'll have to do a lot of meaningless running around as Bruce Wayne's assistant," he said with the barest hint of a grin. "Picking up dry cleaning and getting me coffee and all that fun stuff."

"Ah yes. Sounds like 'fun'." Bruce and I smiled at each other for a moment. "I guess I'll see you at six then." He nodded and I took that as all the farewell I was going to get.

Back at my apartment, I dropped a large duffel bag on my bed and starting tossing clothes at it. Well, I tried to toss clothes into it, but failed miserably so everything just kind of ended up all over the bed. When I felt satisfied with the amount of clothing I'd tossed around, I walked over and actually started packing things properly. Jean shorts, t-shirts, bathing suit, all the necessary stuff. I even tossed in a couple dresses and my makeup just in case Bruce dragged us to some party at a casino or something. Somewhere in the midst of folding clothes, the phone rang. It took me a moment to realize I had to answer it without the help of the computer.

"Hello?"

_"Oh good, you're home. I'm glad I caught you before you left for Hong Kong." _

I smiled to myself. "I told you I wasn't leaving until later tonight Mom. I was going to come over and see you and Blaze before I left."

_"I know that. I was just wondering if you'd heard the news?" _

I was pretty sure I knew what she was referring to, but I didn't say anything except, "What news Mom?"

_"Bruce is taking the _entire _Moscow ballet on vacation! Right in the middle of their Gotham engagement!"  
_

I fought to contain my laughter and rolled my eyes at my Mom's enthusiasm. "I'd heard rumours. What does it matter?"

_"I wanted to know if you knew why. You and Bruce have been quite close friends for a while now."_

"Mom! Why else would he? He's Bruce Wayne. He can do whatever the hell he wants to and get away with that. And he likes to surround himself with beautiful women. That's what happens when you have all the money in the world. Speaking of which, Bruce wants to hire me as his personal assistant."

_"What? Honey, why would you leave your job at Wayne Enterprises?" _

I shrugged even though she couldn't see. "There are lots of people who are looking to break into the business world, and Wayne Enterprises is a great place to do that. Plus, I don't need the money and Bruce is a good friend who needs some extra help. Alfred can't do everything you know."

_"I suppose. Well whatever you decide Ellie. I'll see you for an early dinner then?"_

"Sure thing Mom. Love you." I hung up the phone after she said goodbye and went to finish packing.

* * *

The early dinner was a boisterous affair with Nathan preparing my favourite homemade pizza and my father cracking open several of the better bottles of wine. The three of us plus Blaze ate in the living room and watched some superhero action movie we'd all seen many times before, Blaze barking every time something exploded or someone fired a gun. Nathan joined us halfway through the movie and I was reminded of all the nights spent exactly this way when I'd been younger. As I said goodbye to everyone, making sure to ruffle Blaze's fur for an extra minute, I made a mental note to have dinner with my parents more often once the whole Joker fiasco was over with.

At five fifty-eight the taxi pulled up to the private hanger and I stepped onto the tarmac, duffel bag slung across my shoulders and my laptop under one arm. Bruce had had all the audio equipment packed onto the plane during the day, so I hadn't had to worry about any of that, but the flight to the Caribbean was rather long, and since I didn't expect any stimulating conversation, I had brought my laptop, a book and my music to keep myself occupied. I could hear incessant giggling coming from the open fuselage of the plane and I smiled at Bruce as he appeared at the door, a overly exasperated look put on his face while his back was turned to present company. I laughed to myself before ascending the stairs and stepping into the mass of giggling, perfectly white smiles and Russian conversation moving at light-speed. I earned myself a few weird looks as I made my way back to the empty seat across from Alfred, but once I'd passed them, I was left in peace. I put my laptop on the table and the duffel bag in the seat beside me.

"Why does this feel like it's going to be a very long week?" I asked Alfred.

The butler looked up from the book he was reading and appraised me over the rim of his glasses. "Somehow I think you'll get through it Miss Black. However I can not say the same for Master Bruce."

I looked over Alfred's seat to see Bruce in full playboy mode sitting amongst a group of the slim dancers, Natasha at his side. To her credit, she noticed my glance, smiled and inclined her chin by way of greeting. Out of all the ballerinas filling the cabin, she was the only one I thought I might get along with. I returned the gesture and then returned my attention to Alfred. "I think he'll be OK Alfred."

* * *

**Author's Note… **I have ten chapters left for this story, so I think I'm going to try and finish it up first. It's been almost a year since I published the story and I only have six chapters published. Yeesh, I'm slow. I guess that's what you get when you have three fan fictions to concentrate on. Oh well. I'll still work on Joke's On You and Ain't No Rest for the Wicked, but I'll try and finish this one up since it's shorter.

This chapter was mainly to show some friendly bonding and such. All that good stuff. That's why nothing terribly exciting happens.

**Next Chapter: Hong Kong Via Audio Amidst the Ballerinas. **Eleanor discovers she can't stand Russian ballerinas for company as she tries to keep an eye on Gotham and an ear on Batman's Asian-based escapades.


	7. Chapter Seven: Hong Kong via Audio

I do not own **Batman**. Sucks, don't it? I do own Eleanor Black and all the other characters and plot points that aren't part of the movie. Rated T for the same reasons the movie was rated PG-13. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chances Are…  
**Chapter Seven: Hong Kong via Audio Amongst the Ballerinas.

* * *

The private jet touched down on the small runway and glided smoothly to a stop beside a small, very white building standing in a clearing surrounded by the tall palms. I looked out the small, round window and felt my mouth gape out a little. The sky was a deep, clear blue above the bright green leaves of the palms, and between the dark trunks, I caught glimpses of aquamarine water, the waves breaking white against the pale, pale sand. I waited for the ballerinas and a smiling Bruce to exit the plane before I gathered up my things and followed Alfred into the inviting sunlight. I had been to the Caribbean once when I was about six, but those memories paled in comparison to what stretched out around the small airport. Leave it to Bruce to pick the perfect island for his vacation house.

"It's quite the sight, isn't it Ms. Black?"

I turned to Alfred, opened my mouth to tell him to call me by my first name, but closed it before any words came out. The butler wasn't going to change his ways, and something about the surroundings I found myself in was taking away my desire to fight. This was a good thing. Maybe I would be able to survive the company of many, many ballerinas easier when the sun was shining and warm… Or maybe I'd survive because I spent the whole time in front of the audio/visual equipment I'd brought from Gotham instead of socializing. Who knew?

"It's beautiful," I replied after taking it all in.

The butler and I trailed after the parade of dancers and Playboy Bruce, and the airport staff followed behind us, carrying the vast quantity of luggage we'd stored on the plane; I had to smile as the youngest-looking attendant struggled with the cases containing the audio equipment. After a short hike through the trees, our party emerged next to the water and a long, thin dock that, although the wood was obviously aged, was well-maintained. There were several speed boats tied up and waiting for us, all of them except one with someone behind the wheel. That was the boat Alfred and I climbed in to, Alfred offering his hand as I attempted to crawl into the gently rocking boat, and keeping me from falling on my butt in front of all the graceful ballerinas. As I settled into my seat, one of the dancers slipped on the dock and I allowed myself a smug little grin, although her stumble had nothing to do with her lack of balance and everything to do with the water on the well-worn wooden planks. Alfred caught my expression and gave me a small smile in return. It was likely Alfred was saying a silent thank you that I hadn't laughed out loud. Man, would I have enjoyed that.

The boats all roared to life, churned water foaming white around the dock. Bruce's boat pulled away first. He was sitting on the bench at the back of the boat, ballerinas leaning on him, his arms around their shoulders and his playboy smile shining brilliantly on his face. He was a great actor, and his playboy façade was always real and believable, but I had seen the other side and ever since then, it all looked kind of ridiculous. I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes and then caught the side of the boat as we started moving to keep myself from tumbling out of my seat. I managed to get soaked by the spray.

"Thanks Alfred," I said as the butler chuckled.

"Not at all, Ms. Black."

It took around twenty minutes to drive around the island to the secluded spot where Bruce's island house was situated. I had never been there before, but I had seen pictures, and I must admit that I was excited to see it in real life. The house sat right on the beach in a little cove, surrounded by trees and island vegetation. There were flowers everywhere, red and pink and orange and yellow, and they stood out in stark contrast to the many shades of green. The house itself was bright white—I had no idea how the staff kept it so clean—and made up of five buildings surrounding the main house, all of them connected by pale wooden walkways and porches. It would probably look something like a wheel from the air. Everything was on stilts, suspended above the sand, to protect the house from high tide and allowing a vast variety of plant and animal life to take root under the house.

I was in awe. My mouth was gaping again.

"Come on Ms. Black. I'll show you to your room."

I nodded and followed Alfred, my head spinning around like a top as we moved. There was too much to take in; I was going to have to spend some time after I set up the equipment wandering around. The guest house where my room was located was at the back of the complex, nestled in the trees and far enough away from the other buildings that I could pretend I wasn't in this romantic place with the entire Moscow Ballet. There were only two bedrooms and bathrooms in the building, one for Alfred and one for myself; it was a relatively small building in comparison to the others, and I think it was the smallest in the complex. My bedroom was at the back of the building. Three of the walls were normal, but the forth wall was completely glass. There was a nearly invisible door to one side, leading out to a private patio where a lounge chair sat beside a small, low table. From that window, I would be able to watch the sun set over the water.

After getting over my shock and awe of the place, I dropped my luggage on the bed and headed to the closet door in the farthest corner of the room. Business before pleasure. It was empty and big enough to fit all the equipment I'd need to keep in touch with everyone. There were bugs on Bruce and Lucius, and I was planning on keeping an eye on the news from Gotham, just in case the Joker decided to do something terrible while we were out of town. As I was unpacking my clothes and shoving them into the dresser, there was a knock on the door.

Without waiting for an invitation, Bruce opened it and stood in the doorway, a placid look on his face. The two large cases containing the audio equipment were behind him. He picked up one of them and brought it into the room, setting in on the hardwood floor at the foot of the bed. I tried to get the second one, but it was so heavy I could barely lift it, and Bruce relieved me of the burden as soon as I'd straightened my back. It was probably just as well; I would have given myself a hernia trying to carry the thing.

"Do you remember how to set it all up?" he asked, once the cases were both in the room.

I nodded and plunked myself down on the bed; the thick comforter gave a whoosh as I sat down and the air rushed out. "And if I forget something, Alfred is right across the hall. How did you get away from the ballerinas?" I asked, changing the subject away from my potential incompetence.

A small smile flickered across Bruce's face and he gave a shrug that gave away nothing. The expression was one of Bruce's "real" expressions, one of the moments when the real him slipped through. "I just told them I wanted to make sure everyone found their rooms okay, which seemed to be a good enough reason for them. They were all more interested in unpacking and going down to the water before we eat, anyway."

Again, I nodded. "This place is beautiful," I said. It was more just for something to say to break the tense silence I could feel starting. When we weren't talking about work, and he wasn't wearing his daytime mask, Bruce and I had some trouble communicating.

"It is, but I could never come down here for more than a couple days."

"Clearly." I offered him a smile then. He was talking about Batman, and I supposed to support Batman one-hundred percent. I did support Batman one-hundred percent, but seeing this place, seeing what Bruce Wayne could have if he really was the billionaire playboy he pretended to be… well, it made me wonder if Rachel had a point. No, no, no.

"You can come down here whenever you want."

I started as his voice cut through my thoughts, and looked up into his hazel eyes. "Really?" It was the last thing I'd expected him to say. Of course, even if I accepted the offer, I probably wouldn't be down there much, if at all. It was a beautiful, gorgeous house on a breathtaking island, but my place—or the place I had made for myself—was in Gotham, in front of Batman's computers and at Bruce's side as his assistant. Even if Bruce wasn't really sure I belonged there, I knew I did, and I wasn't leaving. So, when Bruce confirmed he was serious about his offer, I just nodded and took it in stride. "You'd better get back to the girls, Brucie," I said, using the nickname I'd heard the aforementioned dancers use.

That earned me a dissatisfied look. "I guess so."

He placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before turning and heading back out into the hall. That electricity I had felt whenever he touched me returned and jolted through my body. I blushed and was glad his back was turned.

After I had unpacked all my things which weren't related to Batman, I set about unpacking the sophisticated equipment and hooking it up. For some reason, there was a wall socket inside the closet, so I was able to get all the wires and everything into the space, which was more than I had hoped. As I was hooking cables up, checking reception and all that fun stuff, I wondered what Gotham would be like if anyone noticed the Batman's absence. I mean, it wasn't like there was news of Batman every day, but it was getting close to that. Someone was bound to notice there were no terrified thugs running through the city, trying to escape the big bad Bat. Or maybe that was just me… Hm. Rachel was sure to notice, but she'd get that something was up the moment she saw the article about Bruce taking the entire ballet to the Caribbean. As much as I disliked her, she wasn't stupid.

When all the equipment intended for the closet was set up, I put the portable stuff into one of the cases and found I could lift it without hurting myself. If I got everything set up tonight while the other guests were being all girly and beach-loving, then I could just waltz down to the yacht with the rest of them in the morning and no one would know any different.

I made it halfway to the dock before the crate became too heavy and I nearly dropped all that expensive equipment on the walkway beneath me.

Of all the people who could have possibly come to my aid, Natasha was the one who appeared around the corner. She took in the sight of me struggling quickly, her pink lips forming a small "O" in surprise. "Let me help you," she said. She took one end of the case in her arms, the shift in weight allowing me to stand up straight again. "What are you carrying in here?"

"Oh, just some stuff Bruce wanted on the yacht tomorrow," I said.

"It feels like there are rocks in this case."

"Yeah, well, such is the life of a roadie."

"Roadie?"

I sighed as we started moving, walking awkwardly sideways towards the dock. "Nevermind. So, why aren't you down at the beach with the rest of the dancers?"

"I do not feel like swimming right now, and I wanted to have a look around this beautiful island. You know Bruce well, have you ever been here before?"

I was surprised at the tone in her voice. She sounded actually curious. We made it onto the dock and then onto the massive boat before I answered. "No," I said. "I've never been here before, but I'm thinking of coming here again sometime. You're right: this place _is _beautiful." We manoeuvred the case into one of the compartments in the hull of the ship. "Thanks for the help, Natasha."

"You are welcome," she said, but she didn't leave right away.

"I can set this up by myself."

"I will wait on the deck of the ship for you."

I nodded, guessing that was the best I was going to get. Natasha was a curious woman, like me, so I could respect it, but man, did it get annoying when you were trying to do something covert. In a moment of sudden clarity, I suddenly saw myself from Bruce's eyes as I kept trying to push myself into Batman's world. It was a little too late for the realizations however, as I had what I wanted now: I was a part of Batman's world. I had weaseled my way in and latched on. I wasn't going anywhere. The most I could do with this realization was apologize. That's what I would do if I found an opportunity.

It didn't take very long to set up the receivers, hook them up to my laptop and make sure everything worked. I'd brought the headset from the Batbunker, so I hooked that in as well. When I was finished, there were so many wires that the table in the small room looked like it was covered in black snakes. Satisfied that everything was properly hooked up and wouldn't slide off the table as the boat rocked with the waves, I ascended the stairs and found the blonde ballerina standing near the edge, gazing out at the bright blue water. The light was fading, but everything still sparkled as brilliantly as it had when we'd stepped off the plane.

"How long have you known Bruce?" she asked upon sensing my presence; I hadn't thought I'd made any noise. She was good.

"All my life. Why?"

"Has he always been so… guarded?"

I bit the inside of my cheek. I thought I knew what she was getting at, but this was territory dangerously close to the Big Secret. "What exactly do you mean?"

"He acts like he is brainless, but it is clear he is very smart. Has he always been like this? Hiding who he truly is?"

I bit my cheek harder, a trickle of blood running along my tongue and down my throat. "Uh…" I said, trying to buy myself a moment to think. "Well, he's been like that since he was eight or nine, I'd guess. It's hard to remember exactly when he changed."

"And yet you remain his friend?"

This part was easy. I shrugged with one shoulder and leaned on the railing beside her. "Everyone needs friends, Natasha. I can handle the new Bruce. I can see… all of him. I accept all of him. So yeah, I'm still his friend."

"This is good of you."

"Don't say that." She didn't know the real reasons I held on so tightly. She didn't know how selfish I was actually being. I forgot how selfish I was being sometimes. I didn't think Bruce ever forgot, but he never said anything about it. "I'm his friend, but the reasons… They get complicated."

"I will not press further, Eleanor."

"Thank you."

We headed back to the house, chatting idly about nothing important. She asked about Gotham and Batman and my job at Wayne Enterprises, and I asked about the ballet and dance lessons and Russia. We found Bruce, and the rest of the Moscow Ballet seated around a long dining table with a huge spread of food laid out before them. Alfred was nowhere to be seen. Bruce was sitting at the head of the table, and the chairs on either side of him were empty, so Natasha sat down on his left and I on his right. I didn't speak through most of dinner, as the ballerinas, well… they did enough talking for everyone at the table. They did enough talking for about three tables full of people.

After we had cleared the last dishes of their delicious offerings, I said goodnight to Bruce before heading back to my room. We were heading out on the boat at ten, and the plane which would take Bruce to Hong Kong would be arriving at noon, and I wanted to get some sleep. For once, I didn't have anything to do that would keep me up into the wee hours of the morning, so I shut the blinds over the glass wall and climbed under the blankets, looking forward to the ten plus hours of sleep before me.

Which didn't come.

I tossed and turned for two hours before climbing out of bed and walking out onto the patio. The heat of the day had evaporated to a comfortable level, and there was a soft breeze blowing around the island. The Caribbean at night was another breathtaking sight. All the bright colours had been darkened, but no less saturated; the pinks and reds showed through the darkness. All the green had turned to black and the sand was silver beneath the house. I closed my eyes and sighed. It was peaceful. I just wished I could sleep.

Eventually, I turned back into the room and pulled a pair of jean shorts on underneath the extremely large t-shirt I'd been sleeping in before following my previous path towards the main house and beyond, before heading down to the beach. Just as I reached the water, and the first waves lapped over my bare feet, there was a rustling in the trees beside me. In one of those rare, perfect moments, a cloud of bats erupted from the dark trees and flew off, the sound of the leathery wings pounding the air oddly comforting. I tilted my head back and laughed as the familiar black shapes flew away.

"You can't sleep either?"

I whirled around and smiled at Bruce, all the awkwardness from earlier gone with the light. "I didn't know there were bats in the Caribbean."

Bruce jumped off the patio and landed noiselessly in the sand. "There are bats all over the world."

"I guess I should do some more research, then." I took a few steps backwards, until the water hit me at mid-calf. "I guess I shouldn't have expected to get any sleep. I haven't been to bed before midnight in ages."

"You can change that, at any time," Bruce said. He was standing at the very edge of the water, his feet barely getting wet. "I know you don't want to, but you can. I won't think any less of you. And I trust you to keep my secret."

"Thanks Bruce, but I like doing what I'm doing. I didn't like sleeping that much, anyway." I took another step backwards and my foot hit something slippery, but I managed to catch myself and keep from falling, even if I had to use an unattractive bit of flailing to do so. Once I had righted myself, I had the urge to express the apology I realized I owed him, but I didn't. I took another step backwards, slipped and fell on my ass in the water. Karma's a bitch.

"Are you all right?" Bruce asked with more than a hint of laughter in his voice. He was suddenly standing beside me, his hand reaching down towards me.

I took his hand and let him hoist me to my feet. "Oh ha ha," I snapped as I took in his barely suppressed grin. "Very funny. I fell on my butt in the water. Sooo funny." I did my best to storm angrily back to the beach, but I slipped again. Bruce caught me, his arm around my waist. I blushed and tried to ignore the electricity running through my body, and I was glad it was dark so Bruce couldn't see.

"You should head back to your room and try to get some sleep," he said when we reached the sand.

"I'll try."

"Don't want you falling asleep while you're supposed to be watching my back."

I gave him my best version of his glare. "Oh, like you need anyone watching your back. I'm just support. Your personal, living computer, if you will."

Bruce smiled at me, a genuine, warm smile. It only lasted a second. "Tomorrow is important. I need to get Lau back to Gotham. He's the key to bringing down the mob, and once I bring them under control, I can focus on the Joker. I can get him off the street and stop him from hurting anyone else. From killing anyone else." His eyes turned hard, but like the smile, it only lasted for a second. "You've made yourself a part of this, Eleanor; you've set yourself up to help. You can't give anything less than one-hundred percent."

I closed the distance between myself and Bruce and jabbed my finger into his chest, screwing my features into a more serious glare. "I have never given anything less, Bruce, and I _know _tomorrow is important. I _know _you need to get Lau back to Gotham so Harvey and Gordon can take care of him." My face softened of its own accord and I fought to keep the tiny flame of anger alive. "Give me some credit."

"Good night, Eleanor."

I watched him walk away and swallowed my scream.

The next morning, after managing to get a few solid hours of sleep, the ballerinas, Bruce, Alfred and I trekked down to the boat, luggage for the day in hand. The crew of the yacht were already hard at work. The Russian dancers all found a spot to stretch out and catch some sun; some managed to grab chairs while others just found a spot that was flat. Bruce found a lounge chair close to the side and Alfred grabbed a more straight-backed chair next to his charge. I climbed on top of some part of the boat I didn't know the name of and stretched out, trying to ignore how pale my legs looked.

As the boat pulled away from the island, I looked at my watch and said to Bruce, "Lucius will be landing in Hong Kong soon, and then the helicopter will take him to LSI Holdings." He just nodded, Playboy Mode still in full gear. That meant he was acting like he wasn't paying any attention to me. I sighed and took it. "I'm going downstairs," I muttered. "I guess I'll see you when we get back to Gotham." I didn't wait for a response.

The "basement" of the boat looked smaller in the light than it had at night, and much more cramped. I wedged my way past a crewman and settled myself in front of my little set up. Nothing had moved, but as I had set up in the dark, some of the equipment needed to be rearranged.

With everything the way I wanted it, I pulled the familiar headset on and started everything up, keying into the bug I had on Lucius. It was this nifty little invention that allowed him to hear me and me to hear him. Ever heard of it? "How's it going Mr. Fox?" I asked. As I settled into the mode of existence I'd employed for the past few months, I reflected on how strange it was to be doing my work for Batman while sitting somewhere there was a window.

_"Everything is going fine, Eleanor. The helicopter is just touching down at the airport now. I'll be en route to LSI Holdings in twenty minutes." _

"Excellent. Everything is on schedule."

I listened to the accented voices of Lau's employees as they ushered Lucius and his luggage onto the helicopter. My ability to hear what was going on was obscured by the racket of the machine as it whirred to life. Another roaring reached my ears, but the source of the new noise was much closer to home. I leaned back and pressed the side of my face against the glass of the porthole to see what was going on. A large plane had just landed in the water a little ways away from the boat. There was a splash and someone who could only be Bruce began to swim towards the vehicle.

Now everything was ahead of schedule.

Exxxcellent.

I turned on my laptop as I waited for all the aviation-related noise to quiet down and keyed in the websites for my favourite Gotham news stations. There was no word about the Joker or the mob for that matter. No one had noticed Batman was gone either, which was good. I had an e-mail from my mother, wanting to know what Hong Kong was like, and I quickly sent her a reply saying I didn't have time to explore while I was in meetings. My inbox was filled with the usual assortment of junk and business-related messages. I cleared them quickly, and just as I was getting rid of the last piece of electronic mail, a voice crackled over my headset.

_"I've arrived at LSI Holdings, Eleanor. The device is in place." _

"Thank you." A light blinked at me from the assortment of machinery. I flicked a switch so I could listen in on what Bruce was hearing. A lot of noise, apparently. "Everything going all right boss?" I asked, smiling as I pictured him rolling his eyes.

_"So far."_

"Lucius says the device is in place in LSI Holdings."

_"Good." _There was a pause, where all I heard was static above the roar of the plane's engines. _"Why don't you go and get some sun, Eleanor? Nothing's going to happen for a while yet. I'll contact you when I get to Hong Kong." _

"All right. I don't need to listen to Lucius shut Lau down, then?"

_"No. You can actually relax." _

"Wow, really? Awesome. Talk to you in a bit, then."

Before Bruce could make any comment about me having all the time I wanted to relax, I returned the headset to the table before pulling off my shorts and tossing them in my bag. I pulled out my blue wrap with the flowers and tied it around my hips. It clashed horribly with my red bathing suit. Awesome.

* * *

The high altitude jump from the plane went smoothly. It was exhilarating to plummet through the air towards the Hong Kong harbour; like the physical labour of renovating the caves beneath Wayne Manor or moving around Gotham as Batman, it made me feel alive. I pulled the 'chute and hit the cold water. After slipping out of the flight harness, I swam to shore and hoisted myself onto the dock, pulling the water proof bag containing a change of clothes and out after me. Dripping wet, I stood on the dock for a moment to orient myself. It had been a long time since I'd been in Hong Kong. I didn't remain long, however, as it wouldn't do well to be noticed, not when I was going to such great lengths to remain inconspicuous. Bruce Wayne was supposed to be in the Caribbean on vacation with the Moscow Ballet.

After finding a public locker where I could stash the bag and a place where I could change from the flight suit into something more suitable for a tourist, I headed into the city towards the LSI Holdings complex. I had arranged to meet Lucius on the suspended walkway outside the buildings. I had a camera in my hands and was snapping pictures of the buildings and people and anything that was even remotely interesting and served to kill time as I waited for Lucius. The camera actually belonged to Eleanor. It was an expensive digital model, and it hadn't been used since last year, since before she'd become Batman's assistant or whatever she was calling herself now. She had been more than happy to brush the dust off her camera and donate it to my tourist disguise.

_"How's the tourist life?" _Eleanor suddenly asked, voice cracking through my head as the system connected over the lengthy distance. She had a knack for appearing in one way or another at the exact moment I thought of her.

"Crowded."

_"What? You don't like the crowds?" _

It was her being sarcastic, and it made me roll my eyes. "Not particularly. I see Lucius," I said. She took the cue and remained quiet, but I knew she would be listening. I had told her she could relax earlier, and she probably had, but it had been several hours, so she was no doubt itching to get back at it.

"How's the view?" the older man asked me.

"Fine. How's the view at LSI Holdings?"

"Restricted. Lau's walled up in there nice and tight." Lucius offered a friendly smile and handed me what looked like an ordinary cell phone. "I put the other device in place, but this is something I thought you might be interested in. I had R&D cook it up. It sends out high frequencies and records the response time to map an environment. In this case, Lau's offices."

I peered down at the display and felt myself smile. "Sonar. Just like a b—"

"Submarine. Like a submarine."

I heard Eleanor laughing in my head. _"Sonar." _She laughed harder, her normally loud laugh cut by the electronics she was speaking over. _"Oh, tell Lucius that was genius." _

"Eleanor likes this," I said, holding up the phone.

Lucius' smile was a knowing one. "I thought she might."

I spent the rest of the day behaving like a tourist, and a part of me had to admit I enjoyed the change of pace. My mind was never completely off the reason I was in Hong Kong, but for the few hours I wandered around the city, I was able to push my goal of getting Lau back to Gotham back a little. Eleanor's absence from my head—she'd gone to check on Alfred and the ballerinas after making sure I wouldn't be bored without company—helped achieve this, since, even though she had a tendency to talk about nothing when left to her own devices, her voice in my ear reminded me of the mission at hand. She was as much a part of Batman's world now, and no matter how hard I tried to push her away, to keep her distant for her own safety, she continued to come back and somehow worm her way deeper into the fabric of my alter ego's world.

All that faded as the sun sank below the skyscrapers and Hong Kong fell into night.

After retrieving the waterproof bag from the locker where I'd stored it, I took the elevator of the building I'd chosen to infiltrate LSI Holdings from to one of the upper levels comprised of a food court for the employees of what I could guess was a fairly substantial company. From there, I took the stairs and found a deserted access way to the roof on the side closest to Lau's building. Away from the security cameras and prying eyes, and hidden behind an odd piece of architecture on top of the mirrored skyscraper, I changed into the new Batsuit and faced LSI Holdings as Batman.

I reached around to the back of my belt and retrieved two square pieces, painted matte black like almost everything else I was wearing, from underneath the hard case containing the cape rigged to function like a hang glider's sail. They unfolded and connected to become a powerful hydraulic launcher. Before shooting the adhesive-coated explosives, I turned the timer's dial to two and half minutes and fired down at the shorter building. I disassembled the launcher, returned it to my belt and pushed myself to my feet. Staring at the building below me, I pressed the button on my phone that would call the phone/jamming device Lucius had left inside earlier that day.

Then I jumped off the side of the building.

At the moment I became completely airborne, the static telling my Eleanor was listening appeared in my ears. She remained quiet. She knew what I was doing and knew better than to interrupt, but I still wished she would have waited to listen in. Listening to me fight made her worry, and when she worried, she made small whimpering noises I was sure she didn't even know she was making. They were… distracting.

When I was still higher in the air than LSI Holdings, I pressed my thumb and baby finger together, sending the charge to the backpack containing the cape. The material unfurled itself and as the current hit it, became rigid and in the shape of wings, allowing me to glide around the building until I was level with the floor Lau's office was on and I could dive through the window, startling a man who was already tightly wound.

I rolled to my feet, grabbed the man's wrist to keep him from firing his gun and used my momentum to push him backwards through a glass wall. Before he could regain his footing, I slammed my elbow into his neck and the underside of his chin, knocking him unconscious. As he crumpled to the ground, I dove to the floor to avoid gunshots from behind. As I knew would happen, I could hear Eleanor on the other end, reacting to the gunshots and the noises of breaking glass. In a moment of silence, she informed me the Hong Kong police were on their way to LSI Holdings. I didn't respond, and the bit of information did not affect my plan; the police would not reach the building in time.

A series of well-placed punches and jabs later, I found myself standing with my back to the windows the explosives were attached to, Lau in a stranglehold in my arms and the Hong Kong police in front of me, guns out. The man leading the police was shaking, a fine sheen of sweat covering his face, and I was betting, the palms of his hands, wrapped around his gun. I stared at him through the cowl as I wrapped the Sky Hook beacon around Lau. As the windows blew out behind me in a flash of heat and flame, I pressed the button, releasing the balloon into the night sky. Almost immediately, a loud thrumming filled the air. The police all ducked instinctively and I felt Lau try to do the same, but found the motion impossible thanks to my arm and the fact that the plane grabbed the beacon, pulling Lau and myself out of the building and up towards the open back of the plane.

We struck the floor of the cargo bay of the plane, my left shoulder taking most of the impact. Before Lau could gather his senses enough to try and get away, I pulled his hands behind his back and tied his wrists with plastic handcuffs and injected him with a sedative to knock him out for the ride back to Gotham.

_"Everything go as planned?" _Eleanor's voice was quiet and I knew she was afraid I was injured.

"Yes. And I'm fine."

_"I didn't ask." _

"You didn't have to."

She paused, the silence heavy. I heard something shifting around and then she sighed. _"You're sure your okay? You're not acting all big and tough to impress me, right?" _she asked, her tone sarcastic, more like herself.

That made me smile. "I'm fine," I said again.

_"Well, if you're sure. I guess I'll see you when I get back to Gotham tomorrow. Then we'll have to get ready for the party." _

"I'll store the suit in the panic room myself."

_"Okay. I'll remember to bring the police scanner so I can keep an ear on things. I don't want to miss something important because I'm dressed up and pretending to be having a good time instead of down in the bunker, doing my job." _

"Good." I was quiet for a moment and then said, "Have a safe flight home, Ellie."

_"See you soon." _

The earpiece went dead and I was alone with my thoughts, the noise and feeling of the plane around me, the distant electronic noises and Korean voices from the cockpit and the soft mumbling Lau was making from his position leaning against the opposite wall of the plane. I was itching to remove the cowl, but didn't and instead focused on the party Eleanor had mentioned.

Tomorrow night I would be holding the fundraiser I'd promised to hold for Harvey Dent. Harvey would be there, and so would Rachel, but she would coming as his date. I did support what Harvey stood for—ridding Gotham of the mob and fighting to bring the crime rate down—but really, I wanted to impress Rachel. I wanted her to see that I was trying to find a way to get Gotham to a point where Batman was no longer needed. I wanted her to see that I was serious about putting The Dark Knight of Gotham City behind me so we could be together. And really, I just wanted to see her. Since she'd started dating Dent and because I had my public image to keep up, I rarely saw her anymore. Once Batman was no longer needed—once Harvey Dent succeeded—that would all change.

A thought came unwarranted into my head then: Eleanor. Eleanor, who was so supportive of Batman, who was rearranging her life to help me fight crime, who would be so beyond furious if I gave up Batman. I loved Rachel, and I could be with Rachel once Batman was gone, but Eleanor… she complicated things.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

So clearly I'm a liar about updating this fic, but… you're just going to have to deal with it. I'm kind of excited to write the next chapter. Mostly because Ellie gets to go to the party with Bruce. Fun times.

By the way, this chapter was a PAIN IN THE ASS. I think I rewrote most of it at least twice because it just wasn't coming out the way I wanted it to. My muses have all gone and left. I need to get them back PRONTO. Or there is going to be a bloody pile of messy, fleshy bits sitting where this author sits now…

So not much happens in this chapter. Hm… How come it's so long then? Goood question. Okay, so it's not that nothing happens, it's that a lot of it is just… boring stuff. Blarg. And writing from Bruce's point of view is haaard. I don't wanna do it anymooore. (As you can tell from the _much _shorter portion of the chapter from his eyes.) But I have to, because I'm not going to make you read the entire fic from Ellie's eyes. I love Ellie, but she's my OC and I'm respectful that people don't generally want to read something that completely centres on OCs. I get that and I'm trying to avoid it, but sometimes, it's hard, and sometimes, you end up with mediocre writing like the stuff from Bruce's POV. Forgive me, please. I'm trying. Also, the problem with writing this section of the movie from Bruce's POV is that I tried to add some more details into it, to explain what happened. And, in a couple cases, not even my severely warped brain could come up with a _good _explanation.

Oh, and FYI, it's called a portable internet stick. Or something like that.

So, anyway.

I watched The Dark Knight the other day for the first time in six months (trust me, that's a long time for me not to watch that movie) and I forgot how much the dialogue at the end of the movie moved me. It is seriously, _seriously_, the most powerful dialogue I've ever heard in a movie. Especially Gordon's speech at the end. It brings me to tears and gives me shivers every time I watch it. The writing, the music… Guh. It all just works so well together.

Listen to me, the super fangirl… That's why they call me The Batchild, ladies and gents.

Oh and by the way, the current in the gloves actually does exist. It's in Batman Begins and also in one of the movie guides I got for that movie. I promise I didn't make that up. It's how he makes the cape rigid so he can glide and stuff.

Okay, enjoy this chapter! Nine chapters left! Although, they probably won't all be this long. But I can try.

Epic author's note right there. That's just how I roll… Me and Acting Wensign Esley Crusher.

**Next Chapter: The Trust Fund Brigade.**


	8. Chapter Eight: The Trust Fund Brigade

I do not own **Batman**. Sucks, don't it? I do own Eleanor Black and all the other characters and plot points that aren't part of the movie. Rated T for the same reasons the movie was rated PG-13. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chances Are…  
**Chapter Eight: The Trust Fund Brigade.

* * *

By the time Alfred and I arrived back in Gotham, it was very, very late and I was exhausted from having to listen to the ballerinas all day. Thankfully, Alfred fielded most of the questions when they realized Bruce wasn't coming back and wanted to know where he was, why he'd left, who he was with, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera... Needless to say, it had been a very long flight back and the sleep I had been hoping to get had been impossible to achieve. It's impressive how much a group of women can talk. Of course, I'd probably been able to do that at one point too, but hanging out in a bunker all day with only your dog, computers and Alfred as company had led to the deterioration of that particular talent.

Can't say I was upset about that.

Alfred drove us back to the penthouse after dropping the ballerinas at their hotel. I proceeded into the building and up the elevator leaning on my luggage and half-asleep, so when I finally stumbled into the guest bedroom in Bruce's apartment, I was asleep almost before I hit the bed. I could have sworn I heard Bruce laugh.

I woke up at some point in the middle of the night, refreshed and ready to work. It was five in the morning, which meant I'd only had about four hours of sleep, but that seemed to be enough. It also meant I had slept through Bruce's nightly patrols, but I was pretty sure I wouldn't be hearing anything about that, not unless something big had gone done, and in that situation, Bruce wouldn't have to do any scolding because I would be mad enough at myself.

I climbed out of bed and changed from the jeans and t-shirt I'd fallen asleep in into my actually pyjamas, which consisted of another t-shirt, black and about three sizes too big, and a pair of large blue and black plaid, flannel pants, and then wandered out into the kitchen in search of coffee, my favourite bitter drink. I hadn't really had a taste for coffee before I'd found out that Bruce was Batman. Funny how that worked out... I filled the coffee maker with water, put in the grounds I found in the jar on the counter—Alfred must have prepared extra when he made Bruce his morning coffee when he realized I wasn't going to be up in time to go to bunker—and flicked the switch. While I waited for the pot to fill, I crossed the room to the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared down at the city below as it started to wake up.

"Your coffee's ready."

I turned and smiled at Bruce, who looked like he'd just been hit by a semi-truck. My smile quickly turned into a frown. "What the hell happened to you?" I asked as I crossed the room back to the kitchen.

He filled one of the larger mugs and handed it to me and then poured one for himself. "Flying halfway across the world in one night and then patrolling the city." Bruce took a long drink from his cup and sighed after he swallowed. "The new suit works well though."

"That's good. Do you have time to catch some rest?"

"No. I have to head into Wayne Enterprises today and talk to Lucius—"

"There's a share holders meeting this morning."

He inclined his head a tiny bit, acknowledging he'd heard me. "And there's the meeting." Bruce took another drink and fixed the full weight of his gaze on me. "And then I have to come back here because the staff will be in to set up for the party and then we've got to go back to Wayne Enterprises to catch the helicopter back here."

I choked on the mouthful of coffee I'd been about to swallow. "Excuse me?" I coughed.

"Just a standard over-the-top entrance for Bruce Wayne."

"But _we_?"

"You're coming to the fundraiser right?"

I frowned as I fumbled, trying to find my voice. "And I can't just be here _because_?"

"Because you're coming as one of my dates."

And apparently that settled the matter because Bruce left the kitchen and crossed the room to his stairs and climbed up to the second floor to get ready for his busy day. Since I was supposed to be his assistant now, I drained my mug and headed back to the guest room to change into something more business appropriate. There was no guarantee he'd need my assistance today, but better to be safe than sorry. One of the biggest benefits of no longer having to work in an office was I could wear jeans, and that's what I did. I paired the dark jeans with a bright blue silk blouse and a black blazer, pulled on my favourite pair of boots, brushed my hair, threw on some mascara and voila—done.

Back in the main room of the apartment, I found Alfred, putting away two freshly cleaned mugs. I smiled and leaned on the back of the counter. "You didn't have to wash my mug. I was planning on having another cup."

Alfred turned around and pointed to a travel mug sitting near my elbow. "Master Wayne has indicated he'd like your presence at the office in case he needs your assistance."

"Of course." I opened the travel mug and took a drink.

"I will have your dress for this evening put in your room for when you and Master Wayne return this afternoon, and I will move the police scanner into the panic room so you can keep an ear on things, as it were," he said with a small grin.

"My dress?"

"Your mother sent it over."

"Oh, joy." I rolled my eyes and turned around just as Bruce came down the stairs, dressed in another immaculate suit and looking every inch of the billionaire he was. "Okay boss, ready to go?" Bruce rolled his eyes and started towards the elevator, giving me only enough time to grab my purse and run after him.

Another bonus of not having to work in an office anymore: no more meetings. It was my job to keep appointments now, not notes. I didn't have to sit in that boring beige boardroom, listening to businessmen prattle on again, and I didn't have to look at Coleman Reese's beady little eyes, staring at and studying everyone in that room, looking for something to complain about. So while Bruce suffered through statistics and this quarter's earnings of whatever it was they were talking about today, I lounged in Lucius' office and channel surfed through the stations on the wall-mounted television.

I had heard people in the elevator talking about Lau's return to Gotham, but hadn't seen any of the footage yet. Eventually I found a news station recounting the event for what was probably the millionth time. The footage was of Lau being dragged into the police station, a piece of paper flapping on his chest where it was attached to his clothes with what looked like tape. I caught flashes of black lines, but couldn't read any of the writing, although I didn't really need to see it to know it was written by Batman and probably said something along the lines of "Deliver to GCPD". As I smirked, mulling on the theatrics, the image on the screen switched to one of Harvey Dent standing behind a microphone-laden podium above a boiling mass of people. He spread his arms wide and the churning noise of screamed questions settled.

_"I'm not sure about Mr. Lau's travel arrangements,_" Harvey said. _"But I'm sure glad he's back." _

I snorted in a laugh that turned into a cough as Lucius' new assistant peered through the glass door at me. I waved and smiled as I took a drink from my travel mug and using the cup to hide. Harvey had disappeared from the platform and the reporters were nearly climbing over each other as they tried to get a final sound bite for their station or article or whatever it was they were working on.

As I reached for the remote, my cell phone rang. I fished it out of my purse and pressed it to my ear. "Hey Mom," I said. I had picked up the name from the display on the front of the flip phone.

_"Hi dear. How was Hong Kong? Did you hear that Lau man is back in Gotham? I wonder why..." _

"Hong Kong was nice. It was warm, and quite beautiful. Lau didn't take well to Wayne Enterprises shutting down the deal with LSI Holdings, but that had nothing to do with him being in Gotham. He was accused of something by the police last time he was here and I guess someone wanted him to come to justice."

_"Honey, are you saying Batman went to Hong Kong and brought that man back?"_

"You sound shocked, Mom. Why is that so hard to understand?"

_"Isn't that, I don't know, wrong?" _

"I don't see why."

_"Oh Ellie, you don't see much beyond that cape of his. Did you get your dress for the fundraiser tonight?" _

I rolled my eyes, but ignored her comment about my fascination with Batman and instead focused on that damn dress. "Yes, I did. Now _why _did you pick out a dress for me Mom?"

_"Because if I didn't, you'd wear that little blue thing you seem so attached to. Besides, Alfred said something about you needing a green dress. I picked it out of your closet, so you should like it fine." _

Instead of trying to decipher why Alfred might have said I needed a green dress—it probably had something to do with Bruce's entrance—I mentally ran through the dresses hanging in my closet. I had two green dresses I could think of: a strapless, floor-length gown that was dark green and way too formal for a fundraiser the size of this one, and a halter dress that fell to just above my knees. It was a colour you could almost call bright green, and I hadn't bought it for myself. It had been a present from one of my friends at Wayne Enterprise who no longer worked there. "Mom," I said, "Please tell me it's not that bright green thing."

_"Well you only have two—"_

"Oh, I can hear you smiling. You are evil, mother."

_"Anyway darling, your father and I will see you later at the fundraiser. I just wanted to check in with you. You never call anymore." _

"All right. Bye."

_"Love you. Oh, and your dog is going mad. When are you going to come pick him up?"_

"I'll be over as soon as Bruce is done at the office. Love you too." I hung up the phone and returned it to my purse just as the door opened and Bruce and Lucius stepped into the large office. "How'd the meeting go?" I asked, looking down at the clock on the wall. "Huh, only two hours? Have the windbags lost their breath?"

I got a look of bemused annoyance from Lucius and another eye roll from Bruce, who hid it quickly behind his winning billionaire smile. "It was just a shareholders meeting, Ellie. All the lines point up, so there wasn't anything to argue about. That always makes for quick meetings."

As Bruce finished speaking, I climbed out of Lucius' chair and grabbed my purse off his desk, slinging it over my shoulder as I walked towards the door. "Is there anything else you need here boss?" I asked with a grin.

"I just need to talk to Lucius and then we can go. I could use another cup of coffee."

I pushed the door open and trekked into the space which used to be my office. "Coming right up. I'll meet you out front with the car," I called over my shoulder, highly amused with Lucius' expression.

On my way to the elevator, I passed my old desk and had to look twice to actually find the monstrous piece of furniture which claimed to be a desk. The young woman sitting behind the desk was petite with bright red-orange hair all pulled back in a tight bun, with the exception of a few artfully placed strands hanging around her eyes and the thick black frames of her square glasses, and she was dressed in a stylish beige pantsuit and bright pinky-red shirt. She smiled an exceptional business smile at me and I think she asked if I needed anything, but I didn't really hear her because the desk was distracting me. It was covered in plants and pictures and a really tall lamp. It was a lot going on and I wondered how she got any work done.

"Excuse me Ms, but can I help you with anything?" she asked again, voice slightly more stern than before.

"Oh, no." I tried to smile warmly at her. "It's just, this used to be my desk before I started working for Mr. Wayne. I was just a little... taken back by how much stuff you managed to fit on it. It's... nice."

The tightness of annoyance in her face vanished, replaced by a genuine grin. "Thank you. What's it like working for Mr. Wayne?"

I looked at her for a moment before answering, and yes, she was looking a little dreamy. Can't say I was surprised by that. I remembered Lucius saying an alarming number of the candidates for my old job had asked about Bruce when he'd been conducting interviews. "It's great," I said. "Lots of fun."

"You're so lucky."

"Er, thanks. If you'll excuse me, I've got to go get the boss some coffee." I smiled and then turned and hurried to the elevator before she could ask me anything else about Bruce.

The food court was on the same floor as the exit to the parking garage, so I quickly grabbed a coffee for Bruce and a Chai tea latte for myself—someone had told me they were good once, so why not try one?—and went out to the car. I had to drive around the block in order to park in front of the building and wait, but that meant I didn't have to wait long; Bruce came out of Wayne Enterprises a few moments later and climbed into the passenger seat.

"I have to go pick up Blaze," I said as I pulled into traffic. "My Mom's getting fed up with him."

"I thought Naomi liked Blaze."

"Oh she likes him just fine, she just doesn't like having to take care of him and I guess my Dad's been really busy lately at the hospital so he hasn't been able to help as much."

Bruce didn't reply to my statement, so I turned on the radio to avoid that, at least on my end, uncomfortable silence I could feel coming. Silence between Bruce and I was something I was used to, but for some reason, sometimes it was uncomfortable and made me restless. Once we reached my parents' house, Mom tried to usher us inside to have some lunch before we took off, but Bruce managed to quiet her requests by telling her we had to get back to the apartment to check on the preparations for the fundraiser. My Mom loved going to parties so she just smiled, nodded and all but pushed us out the door to be on our way.

On the way back into Gotham, Bruce, Blaze and I drove past Wayne Manor, or where it would sit again once it had been rebuilt. I wanted to stop and go up and take a look—and I think, so did Blaze because he went mad, barking in the back seat as we drove by—but Bruce didn't, and I wasn't really sure why. The emerald lawn was swiftly turning to mud in some places, but the construction workers seemed to be at least somewhat mindful of the grass and kept their heavy machines on the driveway whenever possible. I could see the foundation in place and wooden framing was up in some places, but I couldn't see how that was going to turn into the beautiful house that had stood there before. As we turned down the highway to take us back into the city, I wondered, and not for the first time, what was being done with the Bat Cave, but I didn't even bother asking because I knew Bruce wouldn't tell me anything.

When we reached the penthouse, we found it buzzing with activity, people everywhere, pushing furniture around, cleaning and cooking. Alfred stood in the middle of the chaos, overseeing everything with an appraising look on his face, ready to jump in when something went awry.

"Are either of you going to tell me exactly what the plan is for tonight?" I asked when we'd reached Alfred's side. Bruce didn't say anything, and all I got from Alfred was a small smile. I huffed. "Fine. I'll play along. Did you get the equipment moved up here okay Alfred?" I asked, knowing that was a question I would get an answer to.

"I did Ms. Black. The earpiece is in your room with the dress your mother dropped off."

"Thanks Alfred."

I left Bruce to chat with his butler and headed back to the guest room, dreading what I was going to walk in and see lying on the bed. Since no one was going to tell me what the plan for Bruce's grand entrance was tonight, the only thing I could was play along; a small part of me was already regretting saying I'd go to the party with him, but just a small part. The short, bright dress I had feared to see was indeed what I found lying on the bed, a pair of black strappy sandals and every piece of green and black costume jewellery I owned sitting beside it.

I sighed heavily and changed into the dress, and, using the mirror in the guest room, quickly did my makeup and hair. The earpiece that would connect me to the police scanner was nearly invisible in my ear, and I made sure it was firmly in place before shoving some bracelets on my wrist, putting large black and green hoop earrings in my ears and slipping the shoes on my feet. Back in the main room of the apartment, I found Bruce and Alfred and standing in front of the television, Bruce buttoning a very white shirt.

"What are we watching?" I asked, moving to stand on Bruce's other side.

"The news," he answered as he put his cufflinks in place.

He opened his mouth to explain further, but the image of the TV switched from the news caster in the studio to slightly grainy footage from a video camera. But instead of the home videos that normally went with that grainy quality, the face of a very frightened looking man appeared, his eyes shining with unshed tears. The set of his arms and shoulders told Eleanor he was tied up, and he was wearing what looked like a bad approximation of Bruce's old Batsuit. I had time to realize he was one of the impostors before a chilling voice filled the room, causing Bruce to stop fixing his tie, and everyone within hearing range to stop and turn their attention to the television.

_"Tell them your name," _the voice demanded.

The man swallowed and opened his mouth a few times before the words actually came out. _"Brian Douglas." _

_"Are you the Batman?"_

_"No..."_

_"Then why do you dress up like him?"_

Brian Douglas seemed to find some courage in the question and he sat forward, straining slightly against his bonds and his eyes widening with excitement. _"He's a symbol... that we don't have to be afraid of scum like you."_

_"But you do, Brian. You really do. You really thinks Batman has helped Gotham?" _Brian nodded, his eyes dropping to the floor and the camera got a little closer, like whoever was holding it had taken a step closer. I had a good idea of who was holding the camera. _"Look at me," _the voice snapped. When Brian didn't comply, the camera shook a little and the voice yelled the command again, the noise drawing a small noise of fear from my lips. When Brian finally looked up, what I had been hoping he wouldn't do, the man holding the camera did: he swung the device around to frame his own chalk white face. _"This is how crazy Batman has made Gotham," _he said. _"You want order in Gotham? Batman has to go." _The Joker leaned in and made a tiny giggling noise that sent shivers of fear down my spine. _"Batman must take off his mask and turn himself in. Every day he doesn't, people will die, starting tonight.  
_

_"I'm a man of my word." _

The Joker's laugh filled the speakers as the video went dark and seemed to echo in the now silent room even after the audio had shut off as well. As the fear subsided I realized I had reached out and grabbed Bruce's arm at some point. He placed one hand on top of mine and gave it a small squeeze before I removed it. My eyes found his and he looked more shaken than I'd seen him in a long time, but it wasn't something outwardly noticeable. I only noticed it—and Alfred did too—because I had been around Bruce so much in the last little while. I did my best to give him a small smile, but it failed, and I settled for giving his hand other squeeze.

"Do you want to stay here and wait for the party to start?" Bruce asked, his voice low.

I nodded and the smile that broke my face was genuine. I was a little surprised Bruce had picked up on my discomfort when we had just watched the Joker challenge Batman; it seemed more likely that Bruce would be too focused on that issue to notice my rising levels of discomfort and tension. I had already been uncomfortable with the idea of taking a helicopter, even on just a short flight above Gotham City, but the Joker's video had shaken me to... to, well, my core. I realized that I was trembling all over, that fine shaking that goes unnoticed unless you're close to or touching someone else, and I guess Bruce had noticed through his hand around mine.

"Thank you," I whispered.

But Bruce was Bruce again and just gave me a small nod before he turned to Alfred to discuss something. I took the opportunity to walk over to the window and look down at the city while I took several long, deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth and tried not to think about the Joker while I forced myself to calm down. I closed my eyes and tried to think of other things. Anything other than that white face and those scars...

A hand appeared on my shoulder and I jumped, turning my head sharply. I sighed heavily, my shoulders falling, when I saw it was Bruce.

"I'm going to head out now."

I leaned into his hand a bit, that familiar electricity shooting through my body, I think because I was trying so hard not to focus on the Joker, anything, even things I had learned to ignore, were coming to the forefront. "All right... I'll... see you a little later, I guess."

A little later, once the tables were set up and laden with platters of food, once the waiters were dressed in their penguin suits and ready with trays of champagne, and once the guests had started to fill the living room, Bruce showed up. I was standing near the window, one arm crossed over my stomach and the other holding a flute of the bubbly, and my head cocked slightly to one side as I listened to the information on the police scanner through the static; I was also trying to hide from my mother who kept questioning me about being Bruce's assistant while systematically avoiding Rachel and Harvey, who were standing on the other side of the room. The apartment filled with the roar of a helicopter, drawing everyone's attention out to the balcony where the large, black machine was hovering just above the ground.

I smiled to myself as Bruce leapt gracefully onto the ground, that dopey grin on his face. He held his hand up and helped what I could only assume was a supermodel in a bright blue dress climb out, and then another supermodel in a bright yellow dress. And then _another _supermodel in a bright pink dress. Suddenly understanding the push for a green dress, I rolled my eyes and smiled to myself as I made a mental note to tell Bruce off later; even if I had matched the colour-scheme, I wasn't tall enough or thin enough to fit in with those girls.

He came striding into the room, the lanky girls draped all over him and stepped into the clearing the party-goers made for him. Blue, Pink and Yellow reluctantly dropped away and grabbed classes of champagne as they passed the waiters. The facade never dropped as he took the glass from Alfred which was filled with ginger ale instead of alcohol and took a long drink before smiling a smile full of white teeth at his guests. I leaned on the window and listened as he explained what the fundraiser was about and why he had decided to through one for Harvey even though he wasn't up for re-election for four years, and I inwardly cringed as he brought Rachel into the speech, although I wasn't all that surprised. As soon as he was done the required speech, I started to make my way towards him.

I almost turned and walked away again when the supermodels materialized out of the crowd and became, once again, like growths. However, I did not get the chance.

"Ellie!" Bruce exclaimed, playing up his excitement like he'd had a lot to drink.

I smiled my biggest, best fake smile—which wasn't very good—and let him sweep me forward until I was standing beside him; I had to push Pink out of the way to make enough room. "Hello," I said to the girls.

"Hello Eleanor."

I turned to that voice and found Rachel and Harvey standing a couple feet away, and it was obvious they had been engaged in conversation before Bruce had pulled me into the little circle. Suddenly it became a lot easier to play like I was having a good time. "Hey Rachel. And you," I said turning my attention to Harvey, "are Harvey Dent." I extended my hand and smiled warmly.

"Yes, I am. And you are?" he asked as he shook my hand.

Bruce pressed his hand into the middle of my back, and I submitted and stepped back into my place at his side, once again pushing Pink out of the way. "This is my personal assistant, and long time friend, Eleanor Black."

"Well, it's nice to meet you."

"You too," I said with another beaming grin. Or, at least, I hoped it was beaming.

"Well, if you'll all excuse me, I'm going to step outside and get some air," Bruce said, pulling away from the group.

A moment after he left, Pink, Yellow and Blue disappeared, followed by Rachel who traced Bruce's path onto the balcony and instantly engaged him in conversation. I grabbed two classes of champagne from a nearby waiter and handed one to Harvey, who accepted it gratefully and mumbled his thanks without taking his eyes from the balcony.

"Was there something between them?" Harvey asked.

I blinked and looked up at him. "Excuse me?"

"Bruce and Rachel. They're... close, aren't they?"

It took a long drink of champagne before I could answer. "Yes," I croaked.

He looked down at me then, a small frown on his face. "And I don't think either of us like that very much."

"Uh, not that I know you well enough to have this conversation, nor is it any of your business, but no, I don't like it very much. But I've learned to deal with it... sort of."

Harvey gave a nervous laugh and placed his hand lightly on my shoulder. "Well, if you will excuse me, I'm going to go retrieve my girlfriend and you can have the pleasure of Bruce's company back." He smiled over his shoulder and vanished into the crowd.

I found myself feeling smug and awfully pleased that Bruce and Rachel's conversation was going to get cut short. The smugness didn't last long however, as I picked up something on the earpiece that was interesting and startling at the same time. It sent me into a brisk walk across the living room as I tried to intercept Bruce because Pink, Yellow and Blue could get their bony hands on him again.

_"The DNA on the Joker card from Douglas' body had been confirmed. He's targeting Judge Surillo, Commissioner Loeb and Harvey Dent." _

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**Author's Note.**

So the beginning chunk of this chapter was just to set up context in the movie so people knew where we were in the script. That's really the only function it serves besides allowing me to throw in some potentially amusing bits and show Ellie a bit more relaxed than she was before. The whole point of her quitting work at Wayne Enterprises was to take off some of the stress, after all.

Speaking of stress, mine is going to start piling on soon when my essays pile up and other assignments and such, but I'm going to keep writing because it's the only way I'll be able to keep sane while trying to keep up with school. I just won't be turning out quite the same volume this year has been so far. I'll try, I swear, but school has to come first. Rationally, anyway. Realistically. In my mind, however, Batman and Star Trek will always come first. But that's not going to get me through university, now is it?

Anyways, this chapter was quite easy and fun to write. I enjoy dressing Ellie up every once in a while because that's about all her and I can handle, but it's always nice when she cleans up nice and thinks: "Hey, I look good." The days that's the most fun is when I feel like crap. I can live through Ellie.

So, enjoy the party because, as you all know, the Joker is about to fuck this shit up.

By the way, you should all download/listen to "Music to Watch Space Girls By" by Leonard Nimoy because seriously, if that music doesn't make you either giggle or want to dance around like a fool than there's something wrong with you.

**Next Chapter: Buildings and Bullets.**


	9. Chapter Nine: Buildings and Bullets

I do not own **Batman**. Sucks, don't it? I do own Eleanor Black and all the other characters and plot points that aren't part of the movie. Rated T for the same reasons the movie was rated PG-13. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chances Are…  
**Chapter Nine: Buildings and Bullets.

* * *

One might think that after spending so much time with Batman, my brain would have been better equipped to act after hearing that Gotham PD had identified the DNA on the playing card. One might think that I would jump into action, ready to go. One might think, thanks to the Joker's warning video, I would be ready to hear that people were in danger, that maybe they were dying. I thought the same thing. But one would be wrong—and I was wrong—because the thought that the Joker might be coming to Bruce's penthouse had me frozen in place. The thought that I might have to look the villain in the eye, see his scarred face in person had me nearly shaking.

I knew what I had to do: I had to find Bruce and I had to tell him what I'd heard. I had to do my job.

But I couldn't move.

I kept hearing the Joker's his voice, his bone-chilling laugh, and I kept seeing his face from the video that had been on the news that afternoon. A fine shaking started in my hands, but I still couldn't make my body obey the impulses to move.

Someone bumped gently into my back, moving me just enough to clear the cobwebs. I shook my head and found Alfred standing close to me, a look on his wizened face that said he knew something was up and he had recognized I needed a jump start. He kept my gaze for a few seconds longer and touched my arm lightly with his free hand. I gave him a small nod as he disappeared back into the party guests, a tray laden with full glasses of champagne balanced on one hand, and then I turned and went in search of the man behind the Batman, running my fingers nervously through my hair as I moved and listening to the discussion on the police radio which was becoming more and more frantic. I wished I could have taken the bud out of my ear, but that would be me neglecting my job.

I found Bruce over by the far wall, with Blue, Pink and Yellow draped over his arms, pawing at him and trying to steal kisses. There was another glass of "champagne"—actually ginger ale—in his hand and his dopey grin was on his face, even as his eyes kept drifting to where Rachel was chatting with Harvey. As soon as his eyes caught mine, however, and he took in the look on my face, or what I assumed the look on my face was, the dopey grin faltered. It was back a second later, bigger than before. He detached himself from the model-shaped growths and made his way through the crowd towards me, standing close enough that he had to warp an arm around my waist to make the pose look natural. Behind his back, the models shot me nasty looks, Blue crossing her arms under her chest and giving me what I understand is called a bitch stare.

"What is it?" he whispered, mouth close to my ear.

My fear of the Joker kept my feelings for Bruce interfering; if I hadn't been afraid, I would have turned bright red and had a hard time standing that close to Bruce. All that electricity would be running through my body. As it was, even terrified, I was a little pleased to be standing that close to him. "They identified the DNA on that card—Judge Surillo, Commissioner Loeb and Harvey Dent," I said quietly, turning my head so my lips were near his ear. I pulled back from Bruce, just enough to look into his eyes, and we shared a moment of understanding.

"Come on," he said, wrapping his fingers around my wrist almost tight enough to hurt.

He dragged me away. I had no idea where he was taking me or why. We proceeded across the floor, and it wasn't until we rounded the corner into a smaller sitting room and a short hallway and I saw Rachel and Harvey that I realized Bruce must have seen them head off in this direction beforehand. Gotham's resident vigilante didn't miss much. Without waiting for either of them to see him, Bruce dropped my wrist and wrapped his arms around Harvey's head, putting the blond man into a sleeper hold and knocking him unconscious.

"What are you doing?" Rachel whispered harshly as Bruce dragged Harvey back into a closet. Her face was full of shock and a little bit of horror.

It was a note to how freaked out I was that Rachel's displeasure wasn't enjoyable to me.

I never claimed I wasn't vindictive sometimes.

I didn't see what happened next however, because the piece in my ear crackled to life with reports of an explosion near Judge Surillo's house and an ambulance headed to the Commissioner's office at city hall. I bit off a scream as microphone static ripped through my head and then another scream as I got confirmation that the other two targets were dead. The feedback hurt, being so close to my eardrum, and I almost double over, a sudden headache blossoming to life behind my eyes. A shotgun blast went off somewhere behind me and I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming again; the concussion made my headache worse, but that was the farthest thought from my mind.

The Joker was here.

In the penthouse.

Feet away from me.

"What the hell is going on?" Rachel asked, her dark eyes finding mine.

I turned and looked at her for a moment, somehow managing to still look put-together in the floor-length navy gown when I was sure I looked as frazzled as I felt, and I could feel my eyes narrowing slightly into that serious set. "The Joker just killed Judge Surillo and the Commissioner somehow," I said flatly.

It was like a lightbulb went off over Rachel's head. Her eyes went wide and her mouth formed a small O in astonishment and alarm. "And he's after Harvey." Rachel kept my gaze for a moment longer before casting it towards the closet where Harvey lay crumpled, and then she headed back towards the main room of the penthouse, her face determined and her hands balled into fists at her sides; even the way her dress swished around her legs was angry. I knew what she was thinking: getting the Joker out of the penthouse sooner meant that her and Harvey could get away quicker and I guessed she wanted to be far away from Bruce at the moment.

Knowing Bruce would be mad at me if I didn't at least try to stop her, I followed Rachel, even though it was against my better judgement. I had to fight back another scream, this one frustrated more than scared.

I didn't want to get any closer to the Joker, but I did.

The scene waiting for me after I managed to fight my way to the front of the crowd was enough to bring me to dead stop, my mouth hanging open and the fear tightening its ice cold hands around my heart and lungs and apparently, my muscles. The Joker, his purple suit and white makeup harsh under the lights of the room, had Rachel in his grasp, a knife hovering in front of her mouth, poised to scar her face in the same way his was. He was talking, but I couldn't hear the words. I dropped my gaze to the bright green hem of my dress, but then brought it back up, just in time to catch Rachel's eyes. She was terrified and there was nothing I could do. I tried to tell her with my eyes that I would try and find something, but that was the moment Batman made his appearance, dispatching several of the Joker's goons and fending off a knife attack from the man himself within the next few moments, all before I could even really move again.

I felt like a useless idiot.

"Let her go," he demanded in his baritone growl as the Joker pulled Rachel back into his arms. She had used the distraction of the fight to try and escape.

"Poor choice of words."

I watched with horror as the Joker pointed a gun and shot out the window directly behind him and walked back towards it. There was a supremely evil grin on his face. I knew what he was going to do and I saw it all happen as if it was in slow motion, but I couldn't move fast enough to do anything. My body still wouldn't respond. The Joker tossed Rachel out the window like she weighed nothing at all and she screamed shrilly as she slid down the sloped side of the building, hands reaching back as if for a rope or for the hands of the man she knew and I knew would be there. I have to admit that as Batman threw himself out the window after Rachel, I almost followed. I took several quick steps towards the window, but a hand grabbed my upper arm and kept me from making the dumbest mistake of my life.

It was Alfred again, apparently assigned to keeping me moving throughout the night and to keep me alive.

"Ms. Black," was all he said, his voice calm even as the current scourge of Gotham and his goons harassed the guests. It was just my name, but it was enough to bring me back.

I snapped into motion and started for the door. I wanted to get down to the street and I wanted to do it fast, before Bruce could take off as Batman on patrol.

Police sirens cut through the night, and I knew they were coming here. Someone had managed to call the cops in the midst of everything and I cursed myself for not thinking of that myself; I cursed myself for being afraid and for letting that fear get the best of me. For some reason—maybe they didn't want to deal with all the cops they were sending, or maybe they didn't want to take the chance that Batman would reappear, or maybe the Joker just didn't want to take that next step yet, I don't know—the Joker and his goons hit the staircase, leaving terrified and traumatized guests in their wake.

I, on the other hand, had stopped moving. If the police were coming, Bruce would be gone, and I didn't want to risk running into the Joker and his goons again. Instead, I settled against the wall, trying to ignore my reflection in some surface to my right. I did indeed look frazzled and worried and I couldn't seem to get my eyes to stop being so wide.

"Ellie!" came a shriek I'd been waiting to hear all night.

I stepped away from the wall and turned just in time to catch my Mom and she threw herself at me, hugging me tighter than she ever had, her hands scrambling for purchase as clearly she had thought her only daughter had met her end this night. My Dad was right behind her, his green eyes full of relief. "I'm okay," I said. "I'm fine, but I've got to go and make sure Bruce is okay."

Naomi pushed herself back from me and gave me a severely disapproving look. "It is not your responsibility to make sure Bruce is okay," she said sternly.

"If I might interrupt," Alfred said. "I asked Eleanor to check on Bruce as I attend to the other party guests."

Liam looked from Alfred to me and then placed a hand on Naomi's shoulder and pulled her back from me. "Honey, Ellie's fine. Why don't we head home now?" He looked at me and I said a silent thank you with my eyes, because I knew that my father knew something more was up. "Eleanor, call us when you get home, okay?"

I nodded and pushed past my parents, telling them I loved them even as I pulled away from Naomi's hands. It hurt part of me to leave my parents like that, but the larger, less rational part that had been dominating my life pretty much since Bruce had returned to Gotham was concerned only with making sure Bruce was in one piece after the leap he'd taken; I hadn't heard or seen any sign of the grappling hook and he hadn't reappeared in the penthouse, so I was more than a little worried.

"You know where I'll be," I said to Alfred as I passed.

"I do Miss Black."

I made it to the Batbunker in record time since I didn't take the time to change. I didn't remember the drive at all. I found myself sitting on my stool in front of the monitors, still in my bright green party dress with my hair still done and my makeup still on, although smudged. I had kicked the shoes off somewhere behind me and the jewellery I'd been wearing was scattered on the desk to me left, mingled in with the batarangs and papers and pens. The headset was on, semi-tangled in my red-brown hair, but I didn't care about that at the moment and I was glaring at one of the batarangs in substitute for the person I wanted to glare at.

"You jumped out a God damned, motherfucking window!" I barked into the microphone as I slammed one fist on the desk. It hurt but it gave me some semblance of satisfaction.

_"We're fine," _Bruce growled. I could tell he was mad, but I wasn't sure if he was mad at me or if I was just convenient for him to be angry at in that moment.

"Oh don't growl at me! You sound like you swallowed a fucking wrench." I put my head in my hands and screamed wordlessly, aiming the projection away from the microphone. The stress of the evening had hit me all at once.

_"Eleanor," _he said, and I knew he was somewhere away from prying ears. He never said my name over the headset unless he was sure no one was going to hear. Something about not wanting to endanger my life. _"I am fine. Rachel is fine. She's going to get Harvey and then go home and I'm going on patrol. Go home and get some rest. I don't need you tonight," _he snapped.

I paused and let his words wash over me.

He didn't need me.

Head still in my hands, my shoulders sagged and I sighed heavily, letting every second of that rough noise hit the microphone near my mouth. "Fine," I said and then I pulled off the headset and switched off the receiver, determined at least to have the last word in this argument. "Damn it," I swore at the air around me. "DAMN IT!" I pushed myself off the stool, grabbed a handful of my costume jewels and other desk paraphernalia and chucked the mismatched objects as hard as I could at the concrete floor, the loud clatter insufficient to quell my anger and frustration. I scowled at the floor, glared at the Tumbler and then retrieved my things and stomped from the bunker, kicking the wheel of the damn tank as I passed, screaming when it hurt my foot.

However, I was not gone for long.

Around five in the morning, my phone started ringing. Okay, it wasn't strictly speaking _my _phone, it was my Bruce's assistant's phone, so, best I was able, I put on my assistant face, rolled over in bed and grabbed the stupid black device. I hadn't slept at all; I'd tossed and turned, my emotions keeping me awake, so being cheerful would require quite the effort. "Eleanor Black, how may I help you?"

_"Hello Ms. Black. This is Elaine Rigby with the _Gotham Herald_." _

I pulled the phone away from my face so I could groan loudly. I had been expecting this, but still wasn't ready for it: reporters flocking, hunting, searching for any facts, rumours, _anything _about the attack at the penthouse the night before. "Ms. Rigby, Mr. Wayne is not available for comment and he will not be available for comment any time soon. I apologize." And I hung up the phone. I'm not the nicest person in the morning, regardless of how hard I may try.

Since I was officially awake, I decided to get on with my day. I pulled myself out of bed and, grumbling the whole way, showered and changed, putting next to no effort into my appearance: my favourite and most worn pair of jean shorts and a baggy Gotham University t-shirt. I brushed my hair, pulled it back into a ponytail, took Blaze for a quick walk, and then made for the Batbunker, coffee in hand and my stomach grumbling loudly, begging for food that I wasn't sure I had an appetite for. I was still worked up from the night before and my assistant phone kept ringing with reporters, talk show hosts, anyone and everyone clambering for information about Bruce and the attack and the woman who had been thrown from the window.

On the way to the temporary Batcave, I picked up Bruce's dry cleaning—because I'd said I'd do it and it was technically my job—and grabbed a very large, very sugary piece of cake because if I was going to eat anything, it was going to be bad for me and I was going to enjoy it. I was still irritable when the lift clicked into place and I was arguing with a particularly persistent reporter and I ignored the looks Bruce and Alfred gave me. I tossed the dry cleaning over the edge of the desk, plunked down on the stool between the men and tossed the phone angrily on the desk once the call had ended.

"What?" I snapped when I finally looked up at Bruce.

"Put these on."

He handed me a pair of heavy headphones and then turned to the rig he'd set up. I hadn't noticed it until now. I pulled the headphones on and found myself in blessed silence. Bruce nodded to Alfred, who keyed in a sequence and a large gun barrel on a cart moved into action, firing several very loud shots into bricks, all set up and waiting. I pulled the earmuff-like headphones off my head and watched Bruce examine each brick closely, finally selecting one he liked.

"What's all this about?" I asked as Bruce made his way back to the computer.

"Around dawn, the Joker sent a message of the police radio," he said. "He said we'd find Harvey Dent at Eighth and Orchard." Bruce turned and looked down at me, his hazel eyes serious and somehow, calming. I didn't feel as worked up anymore. "There were two dead men there, Patrick Harvey and Richard Dent. And along with a copy of tomorrow's paper with the mayor's obituary in it, I found a bullet in the brick. This," he gestured at the shooting rig behind him, but I cut him off before he could explain.

"It's forensic stuff, gotcha. I'm not really in the mood for explanations this morning, Bruce."

He just nodded and went about his business. I had to deal with another phone call.

After I had hung up and fought the urge to turn the phone off and just ignore the rest of the calls I was bound to get, Alfred settled himself beside me and asked, "I assume the events of last night are to blame for your less than chipper mood this morning, Ms. Black."

"Alfred," I huffed. "I didn't even think to call the police. And I just _stood _there." I slumped forward and buried my face in my folded arms. I felt a hand settle on my shoulder and I leaned into it. "What kind of vigilante assistant am I? What kind of person am I to just stand there and let that happen?" I was whining, and I felt a little childish, but that was the way I felt and I was tired, so I didn't really care that I sounded like a five year old throwing a tantrum. "I didn't even stay to make sure the guests got home okay."

"Eleanor," Bruce said, his voice above me and letting me know he was a lot closer than I had originally thought. I stiffened because I knew it was his hand on my back and not Alfred's like I had originally thought. And now I didn't have my fear to keep the all-too familiar electricity from running through my body. However, that feeling was surprisingly welcome now as it made me feel normal and less wound. "You didn't do anything wrong. No one was seriously injured and all the guests made it home perfectly fine, if a little shaken. And no one expected you to do anything." I finally looked up at him, his hand sliding along my shoulder to reach the back of my neck. He gave me a small smile that made me feel better. "Your mother phoned me twice last night to make sure you, Alfred and I were all okay."

That made me smile and I felt better. Oh, I was still tired, grumpy and frustrated, but my qualms didn't seem to matter so much anymore. "Everyone made it home all right?" I asked. Bruce nodded, and I said, "I bet Harvey wasn't too happy when Rachel got him out of that closet."

"I haven't talked to her since last night."

Bruce had turned back to his detective work, so I decided to change the topic to something he'd probably want to talk about. "So," I said. "What's next?"

"I would like you to take the scans of the bullets to Lucius so he can get started on them. Alfred and I are going to check on the manor while we have a moment."

I nodded. I had stopped asking if I could come and see the manor because the answer, for some reason or another, was always no. "All right... So what was so special about this bullet anyways?" I asked as I climbed off the stool. Alfred handed me my purse, which had evidently fallen on the floor, and my assistant's phone, which I grudgingly accepted.

"It was in the wall away from the dead men and out of any possible line of fire."

"So you're thinking it was planted?"

"I know it was planted."

I just nodded because there was nothing else I could do. Bruce obviously thought the bullet would yield some clue, and he was usually right, so there was nothing else to say. I retrieved the dry cleaning to drop off at the penthouse and exited the bunker, knowing I'd be back in a few hours, and feeling much better than I had when I'd awoken.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

Damn it, it's been forever since I updated. RUGG. Anyways, I'm going to be working on getting this one and Book Two of Monster Hospital done. Just whittling away at that list of fics... I will finish them! Eventually! I'll be posting the short follow ups to my Star Trek fic soon as well as starting one of my Mass Effect fics, but nothing too in depth until some of these other fics are done. I also might sporadically update my Harry Potter fic, but we'll see.

As of right now, there are seven or eight more chapters of this fic, but we'll see if it stays at that number, because we all know I have issues with keeping as many chapters as I planned. But I'll tell you something, I missed spending some time with Eleanor, so I hope you all missed her too. It felt good to be writing Batman again. Oddly enough, this fic feels like home. Is that weird? After Chances Are is done, I'll be finishing Joke's On You. And there will be lots more Batman around after that. I have a whole bunch planned.

By the way, Eleanor's little rant was inspired by the words of Wil Wheaton and someone one my history teachers said to me about Batman's growl. There will be more similar ranting in the chapters to come because ranting Eleanor is fun to write.

This whole chapter is from Eleanor's POV because I missed her.

Enjoy!

**Next Chapter: Funeral; Rachel Named.**


	10. Chapter Ten: Funeral, Rachel Named

I do not own **Batman**. Sucks, don't it? I do own Eleanor Black and all the other characters and plot points that aren't part of the movie. Rated T for the same reasons the movie was rated PG-13. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chances Are…  
**Chapter Ten: Funeral; Rachel Named.

* * *

Eleanor returned to the bunker early in the afternoon, a pile of paper in one arm, her giant purse slung over one shoulder and her phone pressed between her ear and her other shoulder; evidently she was steal fielding phone calls about the Joker showing up at my penthouse the night before. Her face was red and she looked livid. Alfred and I stopped the diagnostic we were running on the systems and watched as she stomped across the floor, dropped her bag on the floor beside the armchair, tossed the papers on the desk and then hung up the phone and dropped it none-too-gently on the surface of the desk, the little screen on the front of the device cracking with the force.

She huffed and then said, "I think I'm going to need a new phone." And then she sat down in the armchair, legs folded underneath her and half-collapsed against one arm. She looked like she was reaching her wits' end with the reporters.

"You dropped off the scans for Lucius?" I asked, turning back to the array of computer screens.

"Yes. He said he should be done with them around five." When I didn't respond, the chair creaked and Eleanor appeared at my shoulder. "You have a lunch to get to, Bruce. With the CEO of North Star Technologies or whatever the name of that company was."

I turned at looked at Eleanor, who appeared to be trying to remember the specifics of the meeting. "I know," I said. "I won't be late."

She huffed again and I saw the ends of her hair as she ran her fingers back through the reddish locks before gathering it in a ponytail at the base of her neck. "Bruce, the lunch is in half an hour. Afterwards we can head over to Wayne Enterprises and see what Lucius came up with." Eleanor returned to her bag and pulled out a hooded sweater. "I'll be down here if you need me."

I submitted the desk to Eleanor, who was already pulling up her favourite stool—the one that squeaked—and headed towards the lift, Alfred following. "What are you going to do down here all afternoon?" I asked.

Eleanor shrugged as she pulled her laptop out of her bag and arranged it on the slightly cluttered desk. "I don't know. I'll think of something."

Shaking my head, Alfred and I left the bunker in the hands of Eleanor—who I was beginning to realize was far more capable of handling things than I had thought she'd be—and returned to the car. I was at the restaurant, dressed and in full billionaire persona twenty minutes later, ready to endure a business lunch. It was a responsibility I didn't particularly enjoy and, normally, didn't do; Lucius was the one who usually took care of the lunches and the meetings, but the man I was meeting had requested to talk to the owner of the company specifically.

The man, Mr. Thomas—a typical young businessman with a three-hundred dollar haircut and a seven-thousand dollar suit—arrived right on time and was perfectly polite and well-rehearsed. At the end of the meal, I gave him Lucius' card and told him to call him the next morning to work out the details, because, as much as I disliked some of the aspects of running a business, North Star Technologies would be an excellent partner for the company, and as they specialized in medical technology, it would provide a great story about the progression of the company for the newspapers. The young CEO left the meeting smiling and with the promise he would be in touch tomorrow.

Once Alfred had picked me up and I was sitting in the back of the car, I phoned Eleanor.

_"Hello Mr. Wayne," _she answered, putting as much slime in her voice as she could; I could almost hear her laughing. _"What can I help you with?" _

"I'm going to head over to Wayne Enterprises to meet Lucius. Anything on the scanner?"

_"Nope. All is quiet down here. They haven't heard anything from the Joker, although they've got a ton of extra security around Mayor Garcia and are pretty much prepared for anything. I picked up a call from Gordon, too. He was double-checking the security measures for the parade tomorrow. They're doing a run through tonight." _

I nodded along as she informed me. "Good. I'll check in later if nothing else comes up. Keep—"

_"Listening? I never stop, Bruce. And you know what else never stops? These damn calls about last night." _

I felt myself smile at her frustration. "So I take it your phone is okay?"

_"Oh yeah, it works real well..." _She grumbled something unintelligibly and then said, _"I'll see you when you get back."_

I ended the call without saying goodbye and Alfred drove through the mid-afternoon traffic to Wayne Enterprises. Lucius was on the phone when I arrived, so I settled myself in one of the chairs and waited.

"How was lunch with Mr. Thomas?" Lucius asked once he was off the phone.

"It went well. He should be calling you tomorrow morning at some point to discuss the details," I said with a slight grin, knowing that Lucius would find that statement at least slightly amusing.

He gave me a small grin. "All right."

"Have you finished with the scans?"

The older African-American man nodded and took a drink from the mug of coffee next to his hand. "Yes. I was able to finish earlier than I told Eleanor. One of the meetings this afternoon was cancelled. You did an impeccable job with the scans, Bruce." I inclined my head in acknowledgement and Lucius said, "There is something I need to tell you."

"What is it?" I leaned forward, intrigued by the suddenly serious tone of my friend's voice.

"Mr. Reese was going over the annual numbers for the company and he came across the plans for the Tumbler, the old suit and several of the gadgets. He made the connection between you and the Batman. I believe I managed to persuade him he is wrong about you, but we should keep a close eye on him in the coming months." Something must have shown on my face because Lucius continued. "I will encrypt all the files so only you, Eleanor and myself have access, unless you don't want her to have access."

I seriously thought about that for a moment. Did I want Eleanor to have access to all the files relating to Batman? She already had unrestricted access to Applied Sciences, where all the gadgets I used as Batman came from, so what would it be to leave her file access intact? With a slight sigh, I realized the largest question here was did I trust Eleanor enough. She had made herself a part of Batman's world against my better judgement and my pushing. She had been determined to get where she was and I had a feeling she would find a renewed determination if she found out she didn't have access to the files anymore. There really was no point in trying to push her away, because Eleanor would just come back. And I quite liked having her around, as much as it bothered me to admit that, even to myself.

"Eleanor can have unrestricted access to everything," I said.

Lucius seemed only mildly surprised. "Very well. Shall we head downstairs to have a look at that scan then?"

* * *

"Ms. Black, why don't you take the rest of the night off?"

I pushed against the leg of the desk, turning the armchair until I could see Alfred. I was upside down, with my hair brushing the concrete floor of the bunker and my ankles crossed in the air; the headset was around my neck and the volume was turned up so I wouldn't miss anything. My face was probably damn near purple from all the blood rushing to my head and there was a headache starting somewhere behind my eyes. "Why would I want to take the rest of the night off?" I asked the butler.

"You appear to be quite bored."

I struggled to get upright again and once I was using the chair properly, I took a moment to let the blood return to where it was supposed to be and to let the pounding subside. "I am, but this is my job, right? I can't leave because that'll prove to Bruce that I can't do this."

"Are you still trying to prove yourself worthy to Master Bruce?"

I looked at Alfred and tried to appear surprised at the suggestion, but I couldn't do it. "I have to, Alfred. He keeps looking for reasons to get me out of here. As much as he tries to accept that I'm here, as much as he keeps me involved, I have to keep fighting for my position." Alfred seemed to consider my words. "I don't want to leave, Alfred."

"I am aware of that, Ms. Black, but the parade is tomorrow and the three of us are going to be down here for most of the day. A night in a proper bed—"

"Will be great." I sighed, resigned. "Maybe I will... Bruce won't hold one night against me, will he?"

Alfred gave me a warm smile that told me he was pleased. "On the contrary. I believe he will be pleased to see you taking your health into account." As I nodded and got to my feet, preparing to gather my things and leave, Alfred caught my eyes with his steady, light blue gaze. "He does care about you, Eleanor."

I frowned, and just nodded before I went about preparing to leave.

Before I went to the penthouse, I went to my apartment and walked Blaze, promised him I'd take him back to my parents' house where he could get the attention he deserved, and packed a bag with clean clothes and some new books, and then I made my way to Bruce's massive apartment. I dropped my bag in the guest room, changed into my pyjamas—a pair of plaid shorts and a baggy t-shirt—and wandered around, trying to make myself feel tired. As I made my way down the hall to where Bruce's largely unused bed was, my cell phone, which was clutched in my hand, buzzed and started playing the weird ringtone I'd assigned Bruce.

"Hey," I said.

_"Having trouble getting to sleep?"_

"I haven't even tried yet. What's up?"

_"We got a thumb print off the bullet. I'm going to run it through the system while I'm out on patrol. I'll let you know if we find anything."_

"Good."

There was a pregnant pause. _"Ellie, are you okay?" _

"I'm fine," I swiftly lied. "I'll see you tomorrow before the parade."

_"Okay." _

It was my turn to end the call without saying goodbye. I dropped the phone on the nightstand beside Bruce's bed and fell into the bigger-than-king-sized monstrosity before I wiggled under the covers.

I fell asleep around two in the morning—my average since working for Batman—and managed three hours before footsteps woke me up. Apparently I'd developed an overactive sense of hearing or something. You had to have one when you were around Batman or you would never hear him. Of course, that didn't mean that Bruce still couldn't sneak up on me, because he did it frequently. I sat up in the massive bed, untangled my legs from the thick comforters and put my feet on the chilly floor, intending to stand up and find out who was home, but I didn't need to wait that long.

Bruce came around the edge of the room divider, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Apparently he had just come home to change. "I didn't mean to wake you," he said.

I shrugged and then locked my fingers and stretched them up towards the ceiling, my shoulders giving a couple satisfying pops. "Don't worry about it. I would have been up soon anyways. I haven't had more than five hours of sleep since I started working for you." I climbed out of bed and padded across the floor until I was standing in front of Bruce, something in that closeness making goosebumps prickle along my arms and shivers dance up and down my spine. "We're got to get ready for the parade." I placed a hand on his forearm as I passed, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me around to face him.

There was something in his eyes, something that told me there was something he wasn't telling me, but it was a look I was getting used to. "You... don't have to come today," Bruce said, his tone not the one he normally used when trying to push me away. This was softer.

"Bruce..."

His hand tightened on my wrist and then slid down to squeeze my hand before dropping contact completely. "Just think about taking the day off, okay?"

Before I could stop myself, I nodded. "Fine, I will. Are you going to tell me why?" Bruce opened his mouth, but I held up my hand to silence him. "You don't have to answer." I smiled at him to show that I wasn't mad about being kept in the dark, because even though it bothered me sometimes, I kind of understood. "I know what you're going to say. I'll see you later, or I'll see you tomorrow."

Bruce looked intently at me for a minute. He seemed like he was going to say something else, but he kept his mouth shut, settling instead for a nod the half-smile that was fast becoming his most revealing expression. And then he left.

I huffed and sat back down on the bed, the comforter giving a soft whoosh as the air escaped. After a moment of feeling like I was going to scream, I got to my feet again and walked into the bathroom, brushed my hair, undressed and climbed into a hot shower. Clean and feeling more awake than a cup of coffee could have made me, I dressed in my favourite jeans and, feeling today was appropriate, the t-shirt bearing the bat symbol I'd bought from a man selling them on the street downtown.

For about an hour, I walked around the penthouse, hearing my footsteps echo around the massive rooms and wondering how long I should wait before going down to the bunker. I wanted Bruce to think I'd actually given serious thought to taking the day off, even though he probably wouldn't buy it anyway. I sighed and went to the guestroom to gather my things. I shoved a change of clothes, several books and my laptop into my bag, leaving much of what I'd brought in the guestroom, scattered across the bed; I'd clean it up later. Knowing Alfred would ask, I made myself breakfast before I left and then I called my parents to ask them if they'd please take Blaze.

_"Is something wrong, Ellie?" _my father asked once I'd given him my request.

"No, I'm just busy working for Bruce and Blaze deserves more attention than I can give him." I slipped my bag over my shoulder and fished my keys out of my pocket as I headed towards the elevator. "Dad, I promise nothing is wrong," I said, knowing what was coming next.

_"I believe you, honey, but you seem to be working yourself harder now than you were as Lucius' assistant." _

"What can I say? Bruce is a demanding boss."

_"Are you happy?" _

I blinked. "Yes Dad, I am." This was not a lie.

_"All right. I'll head over and get Blaze after work tonight. Will he be okay until then?" _

"Yeah. He's got food and water. Thanks Dad."

_"It's not a problem Ellie. Just be sure you're taking care of yourself as well as Bruce." _

"I will Dad. Love you."

_"Love you too." _

I had to stop myself from hanging up before he said goodbye, which told me maybe I had been spending too much time with Bruce. Laughing slightly to myself, I climbed into the private elevator and headed down to the parking garage.

I was in the bunker by eight o'clock, much to Bruce's chagrin. I ignored the look of disappointment he gave me when I walked in. "Is there anything you want me to do before I settle in? Any assistant duties?"

"No."

"Ah, I see we're already in Batman mode. So," I asked as I climbed onto my squeaky stool, "What's the plan?"

* * *

The funeral parade was scheduled to start at five o'clock, but will all the security procedures and the extra measures in place, it was closer to six when the procession finally got underway. Alfred and I were sitting in the bunker, plugged in and listening and Bruce was on his way to the Randolph Apartments, number 1502, a rental belonging to Melvin White, the man the thumb print on the bullet had led us to. As it was still day time, he wasn't dressed in the Batsuit, but he wasn't going out as the playboy either. It was bizarre to see him so much the Batman without the costume.

_"The Joker has Gordon's men tied up in here," _Bruce said, his voice the baritone growl of Batman. _"He's had people take their uniforms—they're down with the police in the parade."_

"Can you spot them?" I asked. Alfred was fiddling with another scanner, trying to pick up on the police communications at the parade. Voices cracked from his headset and he nodded. "Alfred's got the police chatter, but they haven't picked up that anything's wrong."

_"And they won't. The Joker is too good."_

Shots rang out, crackling over the headset. I bit off a shriek as the feedback tore through my head. "What the hell was that?"

_"A trap. A signal."_

I sat upright quickly as Alfred pulled the headset out of his scanner, and I could hear the shouts of the policemen.

_"It's the Joker! Protect the mayor!"_

_"Get up to the stage!"_

_"ARRRGH—"_

There was a serious of gunshots and screams.

_"Gordon's down! Gordon is down! Somebody get the Joker!"_

I felt as if they wind had been knocked from my chest. Lieutenant Gordon couldn't be dead. He was Batman's link to the police, he was one of the only people in a position of power who supported the Batman. I had never met Gordon personally, but... he couldn't be dead. Batman needed him.

"Ms. Black?"

I realized I had doubled over and was staring at the floor. There were tears on my cheeks. I sat up again and looked at Alfred, whose eyes were locked on me. He reached out and grabbed my hand. The voices of the police continued to crackle around me, but I didn't hear a thing they were saying. I squeezed Alfred's hand and the wiped my face, forcing myself to return to my job. I readjusted the headset so it sat properly on my ears and tried to make my voice sound like it wasn't full of tears.

"Why's happening?"

_"It's chaos. I'm coming back."_

"It's a little early to start patrol, don't you think?"

_"The Joker got away again, Eleanor," _Bruce nearly snarled. _"This has got to stop. I've got to find him." _And then he shut off communications.

It was only about twenty minutes before we heard the roar of the bike's engine and the panel in the wall rose to show the hidden road and a second later, Bruce appeared, the red bike skidding to a stop beside the Tumbler. He shut off the engine and moved towards the Batsuit almost at a run. I was on my feet and heading towards him almost as quickly.

"Bruce, is Gordon really dead?"

He just looked at me.

"Be... be careful."

I turned around and started walking back to the desk.

"Eleanor." I turned around again and found Bruce standing, half-dressed as Batman, and directly in front of me. "Don't listen for a couple hours, okay?"

"What? Why?"

He made his face pleading. "Please."

I sighed, my shoulders sagging slightly and I leaned into Bruce's hand when he placed it on my shoulder, at the base of my neck. "Fine."

They were the longest two hours of my life.

I must have walked around the bunker at least twenty times, making sure I touched every corner. It was the only thing that I could focus on doing because my mind kept wandering and I didn't really need my mind to walk. I tried reading, but I kept rereading the same line, and I couldn't find anything to talk to Alfred about, because he kept asking me if I was okay. I didn't like not being connected to Batman, and while Alfred didn't like it either, he had more practice and wasn't anywhere near as on edge as I was.

The gunshots from earlier kept ringing in my head, and I kept seeing Bruce get shot. I kept hearing strangled screams and getting images of Batman lying on the concrete in a pool of blood.

I screamed and kicked the wall.

"Ms. Black?"

"What?" I snapped.

"It's been two and a half hours."

I leapt back to the desk and pulled the headset on. I flicked the switch and the line crackled to life.

_"He's named Rachel! He's going to go after her next!" _Dent's voice bellowed. It echoed strangely, and I figured they were standing in an alley or some similarly enclosed space. _"He's going to kill Rachel!"_

_"You're the symbol of hope I could never be," _Batman said. His voice had dropped some of the growl and I had a seriously inkling I'd missed most of what was a very important conversation. _"Your stand against organized crime is the first legitimate ray of hope in Gotham for decades. If anyone saw this, everything would be undone—all the criminals you got off the streets would be released. And Jim Gordon would have died for nothing." _There was a moment of stunned silence. I wondered what Batman had be talking about; what was Dent doing? _"You're going to call a press conference. Tomorrow morning." _

_"Why?"_

I conquered with Dent. What was Bruce up to? A hard knot of fear had formed in my gut because I had a feeling I knew what was coming next, and I knew that Bruce had been feeling out of control for a while, but he wouldn't...

_"No one else will die because of me. Gotham is in your hands now." _

_"You can't! You can't give in!"_

"WHAT?" I heard myself roar. I was standing and didn't remember rising to my feet. I turned to Alfred, who looked a little stunned. "What the hell is he talking about? He can't turn himself in!"

"Ms. Black," Alfred said, trying to get my attention, trying to make me calm down.

But I wasn't having any of it. "IS HE INSANE? HE CAN'T GIVE UP! HE'S BATMAN!"

"Ms. Black!"

I yanked the headset off my head and stomped away from the desk.

"Eleanor!"

I stopped and turned to look at Alfred. I was crying again, but they were tears of anger. I could feel my face flushing and I was on the edge of exploding. "What?" I snapped, barely containing myself.

"Rachel is at the penthouse, and Master Bruce is on his way back here to change and then he's going to see her."

The information was so shocking that it knocked some of the anger from me. "What?"

"Rachel just called and told me she was at the penthouse. Harvey called her to warn her and told her to get somewhere safe. Bruce is going to see her after he changes."

I blinked, chucked my bag back into the chair and walked back to the desk. I leaned forward on my hands, hanging my head. It was too much, too much... Rachel wanted Bruce to give up Batman, and he was. She said she's wait for him until he was no longer Batman, and that was going to happen. He was about to get Rachel, and where would that leave me? Nowhere. I wouldn't be Batman's assistant, and I'm sure that he wouldn't want to keep me around as his assistant either.

I was aware that to be thinking about _that _while the Joker was still terrorizing Gotham was incredibly selfish, but I couldn't help it.

The Tumbler roared into the bunker and my anger flared hot. I crossed the room, ignoring Alfred as I moved, and was waiting when Bruce jumped out of the car. He brushed right passed me and didn't even look at me.

"What the hell are you thinking?"

He started changing. I didn't care.

"You can't just give it up! Gotham needs Batman! We all need Batman! You can't give up what you've done because you want to be with Rachel!"

He stiffened, but he didn't say anything.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"

Bruce rounded on me, his face screwed up in anger. "This isn't your decision," he whispered harshly.

I took a step back, blinked and then growled and left before the tears could start falling again. I shot him the meanest glare I could, grabbed my bag and stormed out of the bunker. I didn't care about the stuff I was leaving there and I didn't care about the stuff I'd left at the penthouse. I was going home because right then I couldn't look at Bruce.

I'd never been so mad in my life.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

So dude, I command you to go watch Batman: Under the Red Hood, because man, it rules. The voice cast is amazing, even though hearing Jensen just makes me think of Dean from Supernatural, but Bruce Greenwood kind pwned as Batman, and that kind of rules because he's also Captain Pike from the new Star Trek. Dude, just go watch it, m'kay? Oh, and Neil Patrick Harris as Nightwing was a phenomenal choice and he has the best lines in the movie.

And Black Mask is a spaz.

And why does Ras Al'Ghul always wear frilly shirts in the comics and the animated shows?

**Next Chapter: Hell Hath No Fury Like Two Women Scorned.**


	11. Chapter Eleven: Hell Hath No Fury

I do not own **Batman**. Sucks, don't it? I do own Eleanor Black and all the other characters and plot points that aren't part of the movie. Rated T for the same reasons the movie was rated PG-13. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chances Are…  
**Chapter Eleven: Hell Hath No Fury Like Two Women Scorned.

* * *

Eleanor's words and angry glare followed me out of the bunker, into the car and all the way to the penthouse in downtown Gotham. I knew she felt betrayed, and there was a small part of me that wanted to turn around and tell her I didn't mean it, just so she would smile again and return to her sarcastic self. That part was quickly overwhelmed by the much larger part that wanted to see Rachel and to start our life together—the life she had promised once Batman was out of the picture.

I found Rachel standing in front of the window, her arms crossed under her chest and her cell phone held loosely in one hand. For one moment, I stood in the doorway and watched her, a small smile on my face. Even though the situation was less than desirable—Rachel being named by the Joker, being dragged in to everything, despite my efforts to keep her out—I was happy to see her. Still smiling slightly, I started towards her and she didn't turn until I was less than ten feet away; before I could stop it, the knowledge that Eleanor would have noticed me long before that flashed through my head and for some reason, it bothered me that Rachel had not.

"Harvey called," she informed me as she turned around and slipped the cell phone into her pocket. "He said that Batman is going to turn himself in."

I took in her slightly bemused expression with a stoic face. She didn't believe I would go through with it. "I have no choice," I said. I could have said "that was what you wanted," but my decision had not been made solely because of Rachel.

"Do you really think that will stop the Joker from killing people?"

I had not expected her to be angry, and there was a thread of anger in her voice. If anything, I had expected her to be pleased that I was going to give up Batman, to smile and express her joy that the day had finally come. "Perhaps not," I said, doing my best to ignore her ire. "But I've got enough blood on my hands, and I've seen what I would have to become to stop him. And those like him." She took a step closer to me and I moved towards her until we were almost touching. I felt my mouth twitch in a smile; in that moment, while we remained silent, it felt like old times, like there was no Batman and no Dent standing in our way. "You once told me that if the day came when I was finished, that we'd be together."

Rachel blinked, like she was taken aback by the reminder. "Bruce, don't make me your one hope for a normal life—"

I wrapped my hands around her upper arms and pulled her close to me, cutting her off. "Did you mean it?" I asked, sensing something had changed, that maybe Dent and Rachel were closer than I had thought, that maybe she loved him more than she loved me.

"Yes."

We held each other's gaze for a split second longer and then I leaned in and kissed her, sliding my arms around her shoulders. She leaned into the kiss and then pulled away, her eyes heavy with sadness.

"If you turn yourself in," she said, "They'll never let us be together."

She pulled her arms away from my grasp and wrapped them around herself. Her gaze flicked to the ground, but she forced her dark eyes back up to look at me. There was something in her eyes that made me want to ask if she still meant that we'd be together, but I didn't. I looked at her for a moment however before I nodded, and then turned and walked back towards the elevator. There was a lot to do before the press conference in the morning, a lot to get rid of to make sure no one other than myself could be linked to the Batman and I need to keep my thoughts on the end of my alter ego. There were files that would lead back to Lucius, Rachel and Eleanor that needed to be destroyed.

As I thought of Eleanor, I thought once more of the anger and betrayal on her face when she'd heard that I was turning myself in and a part of me dreaded returning to the bunker in case she was there. I knew that after the press conference, after I was no longer Batman, she wouldn't be around anymore and I knew that I would miss her when she was gone. I sighed and stepped out of the elevator into the parking garage. The drive back to the bunker seemed longer than before.

Eleanor was at the bunker when I returned.

Alfred was already tossing piles of paper and files into the incinerator built into one wall, and Eleanor was standing beside him, hands on her hips and her teeth clenched, making the muscles in her jaw bunch. The large bag she had started carrying between the bunker and her apartment was at her feet, half unzipped with an assortment of things shoved into it and she was still wearing that ridiculous Batman t-shirt she'd bought from some street vendor. Her cobalt eyes found me as soon as the lift started to descend and she glared, but she remained silent.

I turned to Alfred, who gave a barely perceptible shrug.

* * *

I watched Bruce cross the bunker, my mind racing as I frantically tried to find the best place to start yelling. There were so many things irking me, I was practically seeing red and I could have sworn there was steam coming out my ears.

I had only come back to the bunker to get the things I had forgotten, as well as my things that Alfred had brought from the penthouse, and I had planned on being gone before Bruce got back, but something—the desire to yell and scream at him, I'm sure—kept me rooted to the concrete floor. I had gone over and over what I was going to say in my head, but when I saw Bruce's face, all my planned rants had just fallen out my ear or something.

"Did you get all the files?" he asked Alfred.

"I pulled everything from storage, Master Bruce, and I retrieved all the hard copies from Wayne Enterprises."

"Good."

I watched Bruce walk away from the incinerator, withdrawn. His mind was elsewhere, even as his eyes darted over the assorted Batman paraphernalia lying on the stone desk. His hand stretched toward the notebook in which I had kept records of what I heard over the police scanner and Batman's headset, and as he began to flip through it, something snapped.

"You can't do this," I said, my voice coming out as a hiss that surprised me. I fought not to show it.

Bruce dropped the notebook back on the desk and turned to me, his hazel eyes completely in the now and focused on me. He was glaring at me with the same intensity I imagined Batman would have. "This is _not _your decision, Eleanor," he replied, his voice infuriatingly level. Something in his face shifted—his walls went up—and I knew he had been expecting me to yell, had been waiting for it. "I'm turning myself in."

I had a sudden urge to grab the front of his shirt and shake him. Knowing it would be nearly impossible for me to move him, I balled my hands into fists at my sides and glared up at him, doing my very best to look intimidating, which is hard enough when you're shorter than someone, but a thousand times as hard when that someone is the Batman. "You're going to lose everything you've gained!" I barked. "This city needs you to stay Batman! There will be more like the Joker and you're the only one who will be able to stop them!"

"I will not become a killer!"

"No one is asking you to! That just the only option you see right now because the Joker has got everyone in a panic!" I huffed and took three quick steps towards Bruce. "Gotham needs you," I said, jabbing my finger into his chest to punctuate the words. "Damn it, why can't you see that?"

He wrapped his strong fingers around my wrist and pushed my hand away; the gesture made my anger flare hotter than before. "Gotham does not need me. It needs someone like Harvey, who can do the good I do without a mask, without the scare tactics. Gotham needs a white knight to look up to, someone who can shoulder these responsibilities without creating an alter ego." His hand tightened reflexively on my wrist before he let go and turned his back to me and walked towards the Tumbler.

I lunged forward and grabbed his shoulder, aware that my lips were pulled back over my teeth in a snarl. "YOU CAN'T JUST GIVE UP!" For a terrifying second after my outburst, I thought Bruce was going to attack me, but he just kept his hard gaze levelled on me, the flash of rage fading as quickly as it had appeared; he was waiting for what was next out of my mouth. "You can't walk away from this," I said, rather weakly.

"I can and I am."

Bruce started to pull away. "NO!" Evidently my anger was strongest displayed when his back was to me.

"I told you before—this isn't your decision."

I growled and moved to stand in front of Bruce; I could feel my face getting hot and knew my cheeks were red. "Bruce, you are making a mistake! This is the wrong response to the Joker, you _cannot give into him._" My voice had started to shake, and I clenched my jaw to keep it from breaking; tears were pushing at the back of my eyes and I knew if my voice went, I'd start crying and I couldn't appear any weaker than I already did in front of Bruce. "Gotham does need people like Harvey, but it also needs someone like you, who is willing to go the extra mile, who isn't bound by the law. What would Gordon and Harvey have done if you hadn't gone to China to get Lau back?" Bruce didn't say anything and most of the anger had evaporated from his face, so I continued. "Gotham needs Batman."

Bruce's eyes narrowed, the muscles around them twitching slightly. He turned his back on my again and walked back to the incinerator, where Alfred was standing, watching the scene. His face was placid, closed off. He was not getting involved until one of us brought him into it.

"Keep burning the files, Alfred."

Or Bruce could change the subject.

I growled again and stomped over to my bag, by flip-flops echoing loudly as they slapped against the concrete. I grabbed my bag, shoved the book from the desk in it, along with several batarangs, papers covered with writing I didn't take time to identify, and a thick folder from Wayne Enterprises. And then I stomped towards the lift.

"Eleanor."

"What?" I snapped at Bruce.

"Leave the files."

I stomped back to the incinerator, pulled the papers out of my bag and threw them in the air, the sheets raining down for a few seconds, their small fluttering noises mingling with the roar of the fire to my right. Alfred was just tossing the log books into the blaze—the latest of which were in my hand—and I had to ignore it as they went into the flames. I glared as hard and as meanly as I possibly could and stepped up to Bruce, close enough that a deep breath would have made us touch.

"I hope you realize what you're doing, Bruce. And, for the record, I know I'm right. Gotham does need Batman." I let all the emotion welling inside of me bleed into my face and whispered, "And so do I."

* * *

I had barely made it to my car when I lost control.

I collapsed over the wheel, the sobs racking my body hard enough that after a few seconds, I tried very hard to make myself stop, but that only resulted in hyperventilating, which hurt more. I managed to get control of myself just as grey spots started to dance across my vision, and then slumped back against the seat, breathing deeply to try and chase the last of the shaky breaths away. My chest thrummed with pain as I inhaled, but I ignored it, staring out the window at the river instead.

Admitting to Bruce that I needed Batman had taken me by surprise, but it was true. I had arranged my whole life around Batman; around helping him, around being his eyes and ears, around being his link to the rest of Gotham when he was out on patrol.

I took another deep breath and started my car, the sound of the engine familiar and somehow comforting. After buckling my seatbelt and checking that my bag was still in place behind me, I pulled out of the lot and onto the road, heading without a second thought to my loft. Unlike the night before, I wasn't incoherent with rage, but I was still mad and I didn't want to look at Bruce right then. All I wanted was to go home and take a shower and go to bed, and tomorrow, after Bruce was in custody, I would start trying to figure out what I was going to do with my life. Maybe I could go back to my photography, but somehow that seemed incredibly inadequate.

For once, I was glad that Blaze wasn't home. I didn't have the energy to take him for a walk and all I really wanted was a few moments of silence. I dropped my bag on the island and proceeded right into the bathroom where I turned the water on full blast and almost as hot as it would go before undressing and climbing under the stream. When I was clean and relaxed as I was going to get, I stepped out of the shower and reached for my towel, only to find it wasn't hanging from its normal hook. After a moment of thought, I found it on a pile on the floor, where I'd left it last time I was home; I'd probably been in a rush to get to the bunker. I shook it out and wrapped it around myself, and then returned to the living room where I plunked down on the couch to watch the news.

Some habits are hard to break.

I flicked on the television, already tuned to the news station, and watched for a moment as the anchor read through some national stories about rising oil prices and bizarre weather on the west coast. Keeping one ear tuned to the television, I got off the couch and headed into my bedroom to throw on a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt before making some eggs and toast, all the while trying very hard to keep my thoughts from returning to what I had just dubbed the Batman place. If Batman was to be no more, I'd better get used to it, and sooner would be better than later.

Food finished and plated, I dropped back on to the couch, just in time to hear the newscaster say they were switching to the live coverage of the press conference called by Harvey Dent.

I contemplated switching the channel. I got as far as wrapping my fingers around the remote, but I changed my mind at the last minute. I had fought to be part of Batman's world, and this, as much as I didn't like it, was part of everything. I set my jaw and watched.

_"Ladies and gentlemen," _Dent began, scanning the capacity crowd with his dark eyes. _"Thank you for coming. I've called this press conference for two reasons. Firstly, to assure the citizens of Gotham that everything that can be done over the Joker killing is being done." _There was an increase in noise from the crowd, many of them doubting very strongly that anything was being done at all. _"Secondly," _Dent continued, ignoring the chatter. _"Because the Batman has offered to turn himself in—"_

The chatter swelled almost to yelling as people demanded he step forward now. As the camera angle switched to show the crowd, I spotted Bruce, against the back wall, his face blank. The camera focused on Harvey again.

_"So where is the Batman?" _someone from the crowd jeered.

_"First," _Dent said over the heckling, _"Let's consider the situation: should we give in to this terrorist's demands? Do we really think that—"_

My breakfast forgotten on the coffee table in front of me, I shifted forward until I was sitting on the edge of the couch, my elbows braced across my knees. What was Dent doing? Did he not want Batman to turn himself in? I wished the camera would switch back to the crowd so I could see Bruce's face, to see what he was thinking.

_"You'd rather protect an outlaw vigilante than the lives of citizens?" _someone in the crowd barked.

Over the assenting noise of the crowd, and the grinding of my teeth, Dent said, _"The Batman is an outlaw... but that's not why we're demanding he turn himself in. We're doing it because we're scared." _He paused and took a deep breath before continuing. _"We've been happy to let the Batman clean up our streets for us until now—"_

_"Things are worse than ever!" _

I had a very real urge to throw something at my television, but I knew that wouldn't solve anything, so I settled for wrapping my hands around a pillow.

_"Yes. They are. But the night is darkest just before the dawn, and I promise you the dawn is coming." _The crowed fell quiet and my hands began to hurt for grabbing the pillow so tightly. _"One day, the Batman will have to answer for the laws he's broken, but not to us, and not to this madman."_

There was a moment when I thought everyone was going to agree and the press conference was going to end, that Bruce wasn't going to have to turn himself in, and I could go back to the bunker and that night Bruce would put on the cape and cowl and go out on patrol. I even felt a small smile split my face, but I should have known it was too good to be true. There was an almost perceptible ripple through the crowd, as the cops gathered to one side of the room—just visible on the current camera angle—bristled. One of them took a step forward.

_"No more dead cops!"_

And a reporter yelled, _"Where is the Batman?"_

And the crowd picked it up. I threw the pillow at the TV, watched it bounce off uselessly and crossed my arms over my chest. It was foolish to have clung to that one tiny ray of hope, but I had. Batman was done.

_"So be it," _said Dent. _"Take the Batman into custody."_

I waited for Bruce to appear on screen; I was back on the edge of the couch, my hands balled into fists.

There was a beat and then Dent turned to the policemen on stage and extended his wrists. _"I am the Batman."_

My mouth fell open and I watched, waiting for Bruce to step up and correct the district attorney, but it didn't happen. Angry and satisfied cheers went up from the audience as Dent was carted off, and the coverage returned to the news room, the anchors both mystified at what had happened; I was glad I wasn't Dent's personal assistant, because I knew the phone would already be ringing. Grinning wildly, I turned off the TV as I jumped to my feet, and then I grabbed my keys, shoved my feet into my flip-flops and I was out the door. I reached the penthouse in record time, still smiling. Not even when I ran in on Rachel fuming to Alfred, did my grin falter.

"How could you let him do this?" she yelled as soon as I was within glaring distance.

I pressed my lips into a thin line. "I didn't let him do anything. Bruce went down to the press conference, fully intending to turn himself in."

"Why didn't he stop them from taking Harvey?"

Alfred stepped into the conversation, obviously intending to continue the thoughts I'd interrupted. The butler gave me a look I knew all too well and wrapped a hand around Rachel's upper arm and gently steered her away from me. The memory of the last fight Rachel and I had came back and I rubbed my head where it had hit the rocks all those months ago.

"Perhaps," Alfred said, "both Bruce and Mr. Dent believe that Batman stands for something more important than a terrorist's whims, Ms. Dawes, even if everyone hates him for it." There was a look cast my way, and I had the grace to shrug, but there was also a small smile on the butler's face, but it vanished when he turned his attention back to Rachel, who was still fuming. "That's the sacrifice he's making—to not be a hero. To be something more."

Rachel pulled away from Alfred and one hand back through her dark hair, the gesturing betraying just how frustrated she was. "Well you're right about one thing," she snapped at Alfred, while she was looking at me. "Letting Harvey take the fall was not heroic." She glared at me a moment longer before turning to Alfred and producing a small white envelope. "You know Bruce best, Alfred. Give this to him when the time is right."

"How will I know?"

"It's not sealed." I watched Alfred and Rachel embrace and then stepped out of the way as the angry young woman. She stopped in front of me. "Goodbye Eleanor. I hope you're happy."

I gave her the biggest smile I could muster. "Oh, I am."

When she was in the elevator and out of hearing distance, Alfred turned to me, one eyebrow raised. "Ms. Black, I do not think that was necessary."

I shrugged again, what I knew to be a playful grin on my lips. "I can't help it Alfred."

He took in the grin on my face and rewarded me with a small one in return as he slipped Rachel's envelope into his pocket. I wanted to know what the letter said, but I knew better than to ask. However, Alfred caught my wandering eyes. "This is between Master Bruce and Ms. Dawes," he said in a warning tone.

I held up one hand. "I wasn't going to ask. I have learned a few things."

"Is it safe to assume you are no longer mad at Master Bruce?"

Again, I shrugged. "I'm still mad. He was going to turn Batman in for God's sake. But..."

"But you love him." Alfred's smile was genuine as he watched me blush, but I nodded, well aware my feelings never had been a secret to him. "Ms. Black, I must say I am impressed by your dedication."

"I told him I was going to help and I fought to get my place in front of that computer screen. I'm not about to give it up, even if I am mad at Bruce." I held Alfred's gaze for a moment. "Is he coming back here?"

"I would imagine so."

The elevator doors opened then, admitting Bruce, who was looking a little blindsided. His eyes were wide and his mouth was opened slightly; I'd never seen him looked so shocked. If it had been before my ranting, I would have gone to him, but as it was, I remained standing in the middle of the room, my arms folded under my chest, my keys dangling from one finger. After a second, Bruce's eyes found mine and he looked mildly surprised—whether it was because I was there, or because of my bedraggled appearance, I wasn't sure—but then he nodded once and closed the distance between us, stopping about five inches away.

"You're going on patrol tonight?" I asked, looking up at him.

He nodded again, hands in his pockets. "Will you be plugged in?"

"Where else would I be?" I was rewarded with a small but satisfying grin. Following a sudden impulse, I grabbed Bruce's hand and squeezed.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

Five chapters left!

I'm looking forward to writing some of the stuff in those chapters too, because I have some real-life emotional experience that I get to use. Should be fun times.

Anyways, please enjoy.

**Next Chapter: I Live in Batman's Basement.**


	12. Chapter Twelve: In Batman's Basement

I do not own **Batman**. Sucks, don't it? I do own Eleanor Black and all the other characters and plot points that aren't part of the movie. Rated T for the same reasons the movie was rated PG-13. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chances Are…  
**Chapter Eleven: I Live In Batman's Basement.

* * *

I left the penthouse with a smile on my face, the feeling of the hug Bruce had given me still lingering somewhere in my gut, and that strange sensation that everything would be all right; apparently I had temporarily forgotten about the Joker and the fact that Harvey Dent had just turned himself in as Batman. Bruce had whispered something that sounded a lot like "thank you" against my hair and although I wasn't sure what he was thanking me for—believing in Batman, fighting against his decision, admitting how much I had come to rely on the masked vigilante, or something else entirely—it made me ridiculously happy; that I had something to rub in Rachel's face didn't hurt either. He had also given me to the code to open the bunker doors before I'd left.

As I made my way back to my apartment to change and get the things I would need while in the Bunker, my thoughts remained on the woman who had, for so long, been the one person I'd thought of as my rival, and how similar we really were. That thought made me grimace, but I knew it was something I had to face.

We had both grown up with Bruce. Rachel's mother had worked for the Waynes and my parents had been friends their close friends for years before there were any children in the picture. Bruce, Rachel and I had sort of been forced into friendship, since there weren't any other kids around Wayne Manor, but Rachel and I had never really gotten along. We had always been similar, but just different enough to really grate on each other. At first, it had been little things, childish things: arguments over ice cream, afternoon activities, movies, inconsequential things that put us into the habit of arguing. It hadn't taken me long to start rubbing in the money my family had, and once we had started school, it had taken Rachel even less time to start bragging about her higher marks.

Through all the fighting, one thing remained constant—Bruce.

As childhood crushes developed, out rivalry developed into bids for Bruce's attention, a race Rachel usually appeared to be winning. When Martha and Thomas Wayne had passed away, and Bruce had become withdrawn, we had both started to fade from his life. Realizing that, I had pulled myself out and focused more on the friends who had actually been interested in hanging out with me. Alfred had relieved the other house staff at Wayne Manor, including Rachel's mother, and Rachel had withdrawn as well, despite the butler's urging his charge to keep at least a couple friends close.

It had seemed like no time had passed before Bruce disappeared from Gotham.

I sighed as I pulled into the parking garage of my building. I knew why my thoughts were on the past, on Bruce and Rachel, but I hadn't expected the memories to feel as raw as they did. In answer to my sudden melancholy, I packed my bag—a change of clothes, hairbrush, laptop, iPod, books, keys, sweater, pillow, anything else I thought I might need—as quickly as I could and started for the bunker, knowing I would feel better when I was within the concrete walls.

The fight through late morning traffic kept my mind occupied until I was in the bunker. I stepped off the lift and stood silently as it rose back into place; without everything set up, the bunker seemed somehow sad. With a slight grimace, I crossed the bunker to where the chair normally stood and dropped my bag and pillow before heading to the wall and opening the door to the hidden room where Bruce and Alfred had stored the desks, computers and other equipment that couldn't be burned; none of it could have led back to Rachel or Lucius or myself because I was pretty sure Bruce had wiped the hard drives and if anyone traced the serial numbers or anything, the purchases would all lead back to shell companies of Bruce's.

I stared at the heavy-looking desks and put my hands on my hips. With another sigh, I stepped into the storage area and manoeuvred myself until I was standing behind the main desk and I have enough room to brace myself and push the heavy piece of furniture back towards its place on the floor. Luckily, Bruce had had the foresight to attach something to the feet of the desk that allowed it to slide over the smooth concrete easier than it would have otherwise and I was able to wrestle it across the room. Panting slightly, I returned to the storage room and continued the task of moving furniture back into place and hauling out the rest of equipment that hadn't been destroyed. By the time I was finished and I sank down onto the desk stool, I was covered in sweat and breathing heavily, but I was still smiling and still in that happy place.

The computers flickered to life once they were plugged in and turned on and I found my suspicions had been confirmed: Bruce had wiped the hard drives. I huffed and climbed back into the storage room to look for the program discs so I could reinstall everything. As I was digging through the few boxes that were left, my stomach grumbled loudly, announcing it was hungry and I groaned in response, even as I pulled the box out to the desk, where I plunked it down and looked around for Alfred; the butler had a knack for showing up with food just when you needed it. He wasn't there.

"Damn it," I cursed, the first words I'd spoken since I'd arrived in the bunker sounded loud and awkward in the silent air. I scrunched up my features and glared at the lift, willing it to descend and reveal the butler, carrying a basket full of delicious home-cooked food. If he didn't show up I was going to have to go out, sweaty and grimy as I was, and get some fast food; the very thought of food had my mouth watering and my stomach grumbling louder than before. "Come on..." I breathed. When nothing happened, I turned back to the desk and started pulling out the copious amounts of computer disks, marvelling at the amount of information Bruce had collected in such a short time. "We've collected." I paused and marvelled at that revelation for a moment, the smile from before breaking over my face again.

As the first program was installing, I pulled the arm chair over to the desk and lounged with my ankles crossed on the desk, my laptop open on my lap as I attempted to do my job while ignoring my stomach, which continued to protest loudly at the lack of food.

I was in the middle of checking my e-mail when my thoughts spontaneously returned to the past.

After Bruce had disappeared from Gotham, Rachel and I had had the unfortunate luck of repeatedly running into each other. The most memorable of these occurrences took place almost a year after Bruce had disappeared. I had gotten into the habit of stopping by the manor several times a month to see if Bruce had returned and to spend some time with Alfred, who I was worried would get awfully lonely in the big house all by himself, and on this particular occasion, I had arrived around dinner and Alfred had insisted I stay. We had been in the middle of eating when there was a knock at the kitchen door.

"That will be Ms. Dawes," Alfred had said, getting up from the table.

I frowned, but refrained from saying anything, instead becoming very interested in the chicken leg and baked potato on my plate. Rachel and I had always come to the kitchen door when calling on Bruce or Alfred, ever since we were children. The front door was for formal company, a title we hadn't held in our entire lives.

"Will you be joining us Ms. Dawes?" I heard Alfred ask as they entered the small dining area beside the kitchen.

"Oh, no. I just came to see how you were doing—"

"And if Master Bruce has returned?" Alfred asked with humour in his voice.

"Have you heard _anything _from him?" Rachel paused as her eyes met mine, and a muscle in her jaw twitched, but she didn't say anything to me, just turned back to Alfred, who was standing beside his chair, waiting for Rachel to be seated. She dropped into the chair and nodded once at the butler.

"I'm afraid not, Ms. Dawes. If I do hear anything, you will be the first to know."

I concentrated on chewing my chicken at that comment and as the conversation turned to small talk as Alfred and Rachel caught up. From what I'd gathered, Rachel hadn't been able to come and see Alfred in almost a month, thanks to her placement at some law firm or another. She was in her first year of law school and I was trying to decide what exactly I was going to do with my life, as I had completed my undergrad the year before. Bruce had vanished from Princeton two years ago and Alfred hadn't heard a word from him since. The last time he had been home had been during his second year at Princeton, when he'd returned to Gotham to witness the trial of Joe Chill, the man who had murdered his parents.

I remained quiet until Rachel got up to leave.

"Eleanor, can we have a word?" she asked.

Alfred, who had half-risen from his chair, settled back down, no doubt not wanting to get involved in the rivalry he'd witnessed for our entire lives. "Sure," I said. I dropped my napkin on the table as I got to my feet and followed her to the kitchen door.

"Haven't you given up yet?"

I frowned. The words were accusatory, but her tone was curious and a little worried. I knew how she felt; I knew she loved Bruce, and I knew she loved Bruce more than I did. To me, at that point in our lives, he was just a close friend—the deeper attraction thought to be nothing more than childhood crushes—but someone I didn't want to lose. Part of me would be destroyed if we lost Bruce. "What do you mean?" I asked instead of snapping. Don't get me wrong, that biting comment was right on the edge of my tongue and it took a lot of effort to keep it there.

"It's been a year."

"So?" I asked, my voice coming out quiet snappish this time. "Bruce is my friend. I'm not just going to give up." She opened her mouth, but I kept talking, cutting her off. "Don't even start that whole 'you love him more' thing, because I know you do. Besides, we're too old for all that now." I took a step back and crossed my arms under my chest. "You can give up if you want, but I'm not going to."

Rachel pressed her lips into a thin line. "Eleanor, when Bruce comes back..."

I held up my hand and swallowed a hard lump that had appeared in my throat. "Don't tell me you're going to get married or whatever, Rachel. I don't want to hear it. I just want my friend back."

We stared at each other for a moment longer, the slightly taller woman using her height and the added inches of her high heels to try and stare me down or intimidate me or something she was not going to accomplish. Eventually, she turned smartly on her heel and left the manor, the door banging shut behind her. Alfred appeared at my side.

"Is everything all right Ms. Black?"

I looked at Alfred and nodded. "I guess so."

The beeping of the computers brought me back to the present. I switched the disks and began installing the next program as I configured the one that had just finished, but I wasn't really paying that much attention to what I was doing. My thoughts were still in the past and how it related to today, to the press conference and to what had just happened. Rachel did still love Bruce, but she also loved Harvey. The life she had thought she was going to have when Bruce returned to Gotham was gone, and now, because Harvey had turned himself in instead of Bruce, the life she had thought she was going to have with Harvey was gone. I frowned at the computer screen as I realized I was starting to empathize with her, sympathize even.

"What's with the frown?"

Bruce voice shocked me out of my reverie and I jumped; thankfully, my laptop wasn't in my lap anymore, or it probably would have tumbled to the floor. "I was just thinking," I said, turning to smile at him, my cheeks tinged with red.

He grabbed the other desk and moved it farther to the right, pulling it closer to the wall. "About?"

For the briefest second, I debated telling him everything that had crossed my mind. "The past," I finally answered, vaguely. I left the program installing and walked over to stand beside Bruce. "Did you bring any food?" I took the container Bruce handed me, a slightly greedy gleam in my eye; it was full of still-warm pork, rice and peas. I dropped back into the chair and started shovelling the food into my maw.

"Hungry?"

"I forgot to bring food with me. I was so focused on getting everything back the way it should be."

Bruce looked at me, a slightly reproachful look on his face that said he was not impressed, but I brushed it off as it was a look I was used to seeing. "Well you've made progress," he said.

"I would have moved the Tumbler back out here, but _I _don't have the keys."

Bruce disappeared behind another section of wall—the one which led to the secret roadway—to do just that. I left him to move things around and put them back where he wanted them while I continued to work at the computers. Eventually I reached the last disc and just as I was inserting it into the drive, I heard the shallow whirring that signalled the movement of the hydraulic motors powering the rack holding the Batsuit. I got to my feet and returned to Bruce's side. He was standing in front of the suit, staring into the empty eyeholes of the cowl, his hands balled into loose fists at his sides. I moved closer to him on a faint impulse, just close enough for our arms to lightly touch. At the first contact, he looked down at me.

"They're transferring Dent to Central Holding tonight," he said quietly.

"Do you think the Joker will try something?" He nodded, still looking at me. Following another faint impulse, I reached out and wrapped my hand loosely around his. "Are you going to end it tonight?"

"I have to. I can't let Harvey's sacrifice be for nothing."

I squeezed his hand before folding my arms around myself again and heading back to the computers. I watched the bar indicating the progress of the installation, but I was listening to the small noises Bruce made as he changed into the Batsuit. There was something significant in the action of becoming Batman that evening. When he was dressed in the entire suit save the cowl, Bruce came to stand behind me. He placed a hand on my shoulder and I titled my head backwards until the top of it was pressed against the back of the armchair and I was looking up at him.

"Alfred will be along with more food in a bit. I want you both plugged in."

I placed my hand on top of his, regardless of how awkward it was at my present angle, and was rewarded as he shifted his grip so he could hold my hand. "I'll be here."

"I know."

Bruce donned the cowl and whisked across the concrete floor to the Tumbler. He climbed in and the tank-like Batmobile roared to life, signalling the start of Batman's patrol.

Alfred arrived half an hour later with a picnic basket full of food for the two of us. I took notice of his arrival, but my attention was almost fully on my cell phone, which was sitting on the desk in front of me.

"Are you waiting for a call?" Alfred asked.

I took the container Alfred had offered and set it on the desk beside my phone. "No. I'm debating whether or not Rachel would take my call."

"You could always leave a message."

"I know, but this is something I think I'd rather say in person."

"What, if I may ask, is it that you want to say?"

I looked up at Alfred who was sitting on the stool and then sighed and opened the container to find a very delicious looking soup. Without being able to identify the variety, I took the offered spoon and began eating. "I wanted to apologize, actually. I just realized the magnitude of what she's been going through since Bruce reappeared."

Alfred gave me a knowing look and then smiled. "Call her."

I sighed and tried to look bothered by the fact that Alfred had just talked me into something I wasn't really sure I wanted to do; it was more something I had to do. I picked up the phone and keyed in Rachel's number from my contacts. I couldn't remember under what circumstances her number had come to be in my phone, but it didn't really matter. It rang three times before she picked up. "Rachel? It's Eleanor."

_"Oh. Can I help you?" _she asked darkly.

"I, uh... I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I realized today what you've been going through since Bruce returned to Gotham and, well, it sucks, to put it bluntly. I'm sorry I was such a bitch."

There was stunned silence on the other end of the line for almost a full minute. I ran my fingers back through my hair, willing her to say something, anything. _"Thank you Eleanor," _she said curtly. _"And... congratulations on keeping Batman," _she said, her voice betraying that she thought the phrasing was weird. So did I, but I wasn't going to say anything. _"I hope he can stop the Joker." _

There was a flare of anger inside, but I did my best to push it down. "He will." I searched my brain for something to say. "Rachel, be careful, okay?"

_"I will." _

The line clicked dead and I dropped the phone back on the desk with a sigh. I sucked in a deep breath and turned to my food.

* * *

Something had gone terribly wrong with the transfer to Central Holding, just like Bruce had thought it would.

The call had come through about an hour after he started patrol: a roadblock on the transfer route, one bad enough to drive them down onto Lower 5th Avenue, a place blocked from the overhead view of the helicopters. The perfect place for the Joker to attack. Batman headed for the route immediately, but there was no way he would reach it before the attack began.

Alfred and I were tuned into the police band, listening to the chatter as a garbage truck began to sweep police cars off the route, out of the convoy. Someone called for backup and a cacophony of shots rang out, harsh over the headset. The Joker was attacking the armoured car that Dent was in, and by the increased gunfire after a moment of silence, he was going to up his fire power until he could break through the side of the vehicle. There was a terrifying explosion, but by all reports on the police band, Dent was still safe.

I bit of a small scream, but forced myself to keep the headset in place. Alfred cast a concerned look that I pretended not to see as I mumbled "Oh God" over and over again. I kept seeing Batman lying on the ground, bleeding. I had to shake my head to get the images out; I had work to do. I couldn't turn into a quivering mass if I was going to keep my figurative place at Batman's side. I continued to mutter, but I clutched the headset to my ears as if that'd help.

There were more shouts for backup, but the blinking light that said Bruce was signalling us drew my attention. I changed the channel on the headset. "What's going on down there?" I asked. I cleared my throat when my voice came out all high and squeaky.

Bruce paused only briefly at the strangeness of my voice. I only caught the pause because I'd been around him so close for so long. _"It's the Joker. He's after Dent. He's got an RPG."_

"Be careful," I said lamely. I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. "Sorry; nevermind. Just... get him." Bruce didn't say anything, but I could visualize the small grin he would have given me. "I'll remain on this channel." The roar of the Batmobile's engine was oddly comforting, even amidst all the other chaotic noises I could just barely hear. That is, until a high-pitched whine set my teeth on edge. "What the fuck is that?"

There was an explosion, too close to be anything but the Tumbler exploding.

"Bruce?" I called, my voice barely above a whisper and still way more high-pitched than normal.

There was no answer for what were the two longest minutes of my life. I looked at Alfred, who took my hand and gave it a squeeze. I knew I should switch back to the police band, but I couldn't bring myself to do it, not when I wasn't sure if Bruce was still alive; against my will, a faint whimper escaped my lips and Alfred squeezed my hand tighter as I fought the urge to cling to him.

_"Have to eject the Batpod," _Bruce said, his voice tight with anger.

I exhaled loudly, relieved and then yanked the headset from my head. Disengaging myself from Alfred, the chair and the system and began to pace in a square around the bunker, hot tears stinging my eyes and streaming down my cheeks. It wasn't as if the situation was any more stressful than the other nights I listened it—Bruce always ran the risk of dying when he was under cape and cowl—but there was something pushing me beyond the normal limits I could deal with. Maybe it was the presence of the Joker, a criminal unlike any Bruce had faced before, even the Scarecrow, or maybe it was that my emotions were already rubbed raw from my mental tussle with my feelings towards Rachel. Whatever it was, or whatever the combination was, I made it to the far wall of the bunker and dropped to my butt with my back against the wall and cried.

Alfred remained plugged in, as it would be irresponsible to leave the set unattended; I said a silent prayer of thanks that he didn't set it up so I would be able to hear, far away as it was. His eyes remained on me however, and I returned the gaze even as I cried my stress out; the fatherly affection in Alfred's eyes was beyond comforting. I wished silently that Blaze was in the bunker with me.

"Ms. Black," Alfred said softly.

"Yes?" I sobbed.

"You should hear this."

There was a note of urgency in Alfred's tone, so I pushed myself to my bare feet and padded quickly across the bunker back to the desk. I leaned against the cold slab of the desktop and pulled the headset back on, tears still on my cheeks. I wondered what Alfred could want me to hear. I knew he wouldn't let me hear anything that would hurt me, not intentionally anyway, so regardless of the kernel of hesitation in my mind, I listened.

I could hear the Joker laughing and a cold shiver raced up and down my spine.

_"Drop it," _a familiar voice demanded.

My breath caught my throat. That voice couldn't belong to who I thought it did—he was dead.

The Joker said something I didn't quite catch, words that dissolved into further laughter.

_"We got you, you son of a bitch," _the familiar voice said again.

I sobbed once. The voice belonged to Gordon. He wasn't dead. I sobbed again and a smile split my face. The thought that followed however was: _Man, is Bruce going to get a piece of my mind... _

After a chorus of noises that sounded like shifting bodies, Bruce's voice growled into the conversation and my heart fluttered slightly, happy to hear he was alive, if not completely all right, although with the armour Lucius had developed, I doubted there was a scratch on his body.

_"That was close," _Gordon said.

_"Not close enough. Where are they taking him?" _

_"To MCU. I'll interrogate him in the morning. I want to go home to Barbara first." _

Batman made some noncommittal noise. After a moment he said, _"Keep an ear on the police band. If anything changes, let me know. I want to be there for that interrogation. Something feels off." _

"Okay," I managed. I was still breathing heavily, still trying to bring myself back down to Earth, to my normal sarcastic self. I was still somewhere in the images of dead Batman and gunshots echoing through my head.

"Will you be returning to the bunker tonight Master Bruce?" Alfred asked.

I tried to thank him with my eyes before I doubled over and did my best to press my face into my knees with my arms locked underneath my legs. Alfred placed a comforting hand on my shoulder as I heard Bruce say he would be back. As I took several deep breaths, Alfred pulled the headset off my head, untangling it gently from the reddish locks of my hair. Finally, I was able to sit up and look like I wasn't having some sort of breakdown, but I still didn't feel like myself. Alfred shifted his hand to mine and he took it in both of his.

We were sitting like that when Bruce on the Batpod came through the section of the wall and the bike skidded sideways to a stop in the spot where the Tumbler would have been; the bunker seemed weirdly smaller without the monstrous tank. I was on my feet and moving towards him before I really knew what I was doing, but Bruce was ready for me and had the cowl removed so I could look him in the eye without the face of Batman. I stopped less than a foot away from him and did my best to glare up at him, but found the flame of anger I'd felt upon finding out that he'd lied to me about Gordon extinguished by the very fact he was alive.

I did my best to keep myself from crying again, but tears still burned at the back of my eyes as I looked at him. I hugged him quite suddenly.

"This would be more effective if you weren't Batman right now," I mumbled.

Bruce made a small noise that could have been a laugh and rubbed my back, the gloves of his suit feeling bizarre on my skin through my shirt. The moment passed quickly however and Bruce gently pushed me back so he could walk to the cabinet that held the Batsuit.

He didn't get beyond removing the gloves when the phone he kept on his belt rang. "Yes?" he asked in Batman's growl. He nodded and made some more noncommittal noises and then hung up without saying anything else. He turned to me and, by extension Alfred, who was sitting behind me at the desk. "Harvey never made it home. Gordon's going in to interrogate the Joker."

"Do you want me plugged in?"

Bruce looked at me very seriously for a moment and then said, "If you think you can handle it. You don't look well."

I coughed a laugh. "I'll be here."

* * *

_"What have you done with him?" _Gordon asked, his voice calm and level but with an warning edge.

The Joker laughed and I shuddered. _"Me? I was right here. Who did you leave him with?" _the Joker asked. I heard a noise that sounded like he was smacking his lips and I could just picture the creepy grin. _"Your people? Assuming, of course, that they are still your people and not Maroni's... Does it depress you, Lieutenant, to know just how alone you are?" _There was a heavy pause in which I chewed my lip. _"Does it make you feel responsible?" _

_"Where is he?" _Gordon asked a little more forcibly.

_"What time is it?"_

_"What difference does that make?" _

_"Depend on the time, he might be in one place... or several." _

I choked on the sip of water I'd taken. There was a pause as I coughed, almost as if they were waiting for me to listen and then a sound of rattling metal that I was able to identify as the handcuffs being undone.

_"If we're going to play games," _Gordon said around a sigh, _"I'm going to need a cup of coffee." _

_"The good cop, bad cop routine?" _Joker asked, sounding quite exasperated.

_"Not exactly," _Gordon said, his voice sounding father away. I knew he was at the door and I knew what was going to happen next. That was the cue for Batman to step in.

The next noise I heard was a hard whack and the Joker groaning loudly. _"Never start with the head... the victim gets all... fuzzy." _There was another whack followed by the resounding crack of bones breaking. _"See?" _He sounded calm. It freaked me out.

_"You wanted me," _Batman snarled. For the third time that night, I found myself oddly comforted, this time by the dark growling. _"Here I am." _

_"I wanted to see what you'd do. And you didn't disappoint. You let five people die. And then you let Dent take your place. Even to me, that's cold—" _

_"Where is Dent?" _

_"Those mob fools want you gone so they can get back to the way things were. But I know the truth—there is no going back. You've changed things. Forever." _

The words were an accusation and I blinked, my eyes wide. I stared at the desk, suddenly very interested in the keyboard. I knew the effect the words would have on Batman and I also knew that he wouldn't let it show. Beyond knowing that however, I was frightened of the Joker and hearing his voice had raised goosebumps on my skin that felt quiet permanent. I gave an involuntary shutter and rubbed the heels of my hands hard across my cobalt eyes.

_"Then why do you want to kill me?" _

_"Kill you? I don't want to kill you! What would I do without you? Go back to ripping off drug dealers? No you... you complete me." _

Batman growled again. _"Your garbage who kills for money." _

_"Don't talk to me like one of them. You're not, even if you'd like to be. To them, you're just a freak. Like me." _

I pulled the headset off and groaned again, suddenly very tired. I folded my arms on the desk and placed my head on them, the headphone close enough to my ear that I could hear without actually having to wear it. I closed my eyes but kept my head tilted to one side so I could hear. My shoulders and neck were sore and my eyes hurt, but still I listened as the Joker tried to bait Batman but only exceeded in making him angry—the growl had become deeper. He demanded once again to know where Dent was and the Joker continued to babble on, baiting the masked vigilante. Batman didn't give in.

_"You're going to have to break your one rule." _

_"I'm considering it." _

Or maybe I was wrong. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed Bruce not to do anything stupid.

_"There are three minutes left. You'll have to play my little game if you want to save... one of them." _

I started and opened my eyes wide, too tired to actually sit up; evidently going from fear to exhaustion so quickly just took everything out of me.

_"Them." _

_"For a while I thought you really were Dent... the way you threw yourself after her." _

Now I did sit up. "Rachel," I breathed.

Screaming metal erupted over the headset and I pulled it back on, my eyes still open wide. I heard muffled shouts and then the cracking of glass. _"WHERE ARE THEY?" _Batman rumbled.

_"You choose one life over the other. Your friend, the district attorney or his blushing bride-to-be..."_

I was biting my lip hard, tension rocketing through my body.

_"Don't worry. I'm going to tell you where they are. Both of them. That's the point. You'll have to choose." _The Joker cackled softly. _"He's at 250 52__nd__ Street and she's... on Avenue X at Cicero."_

I knew without asking who Bruce was going after. I shifted so I could reach the keyboard easier and keyed in the GPS program connected to the Batpod and drew up the quickest route from the police station to the address where Rachel was being held. I could heard Batman running, and I said, "I've got three routes ready in the GPS."

_"I can get to Avenue X without the GPS," _he snarled at me.

I just sighed and dropped my head back onto the desk. "I'm just trying to help."

I didn't get an answer, nor had I really expected one.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

NCIS REFERENCE. Shauna, can you spot it?

Okay, so I'm not sure about this chapter, but I couldn't change anything to make it better without changing the whole chapter and I didn't want to do it. I like certain parts of this chapter, but I'm not sure about the whole thing... Oh well. The next chapter will be awesome and full of emotion and awesome. Yeah, that was redundant.

This fic is almost done, but I'm not sure how long it'll take me. I'll try to get it done before school completely takes over my life. How about that?

Enjoy.

**Next Chapter: A Few Barrels Changes Everything.**


	13. Chapter Thirteen: A Few Barrels Changes

I do not own **Batman**. Sucks, don't it? I do own Eleanor Black and all the other characters and plot points that aren't part of the movie. Rated T for the same reasons the movie was rated PG-13. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chances Are…  
**Chapter Thirteen: A Few Barrels Changes Everything.

* * *

Silence.

My head was buzzing with it, the bunker was humming with it—although, that could have been the fluorescent lights—and the headset was reporting nothing but God damn silence, silence and more silence.

Well, aside from the roar of the Batpod's engine and the whirr of the tires over pavement and several other surfaces that sounded a little less smooth. But those weren't the noises I was interested in. I wanted updates, something to go on other than what my imagination could come up with—none of which was good, I can promise that—I wanted words and I wasn't getting any, nor did I think I was going to.

I was standing in front of the desk, my hips pressed against the edge, the contact probably the only thing keeping me upright, as I was leaning so far forward. My jaw was clenched so tightly the muscles in my cheeks were starting to hurt and my eyes were staring to burn because I hadn't blinked in a long time, and like my cheeks, the muscles in my hands were beginning to go numb from holding onto the desk. I was staring at the communication system on the desk in front of me, glaring actually, for lack of an actual person to focus my ire on; every little bit of me was tense and it was beginning to become uncomfortable, but that sensation was in the back of my mind. I had given up trying to get Bruce to talk, which would have relieved some of the tension, as he was in a state of single-minded determination and nothing would break him of it. Beside me, Alfred sat quietly but he didn't look anywhere near as tense as I did. I wasn't fooled; I knew the butler was worried, but with his years of experience, he was much better equipped to handle it than I was.

I would get better with time, but whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen.

We were all worried for Rachel and for Harvey, for more senseless loss at the hands of the painted madman Gotham had come to know as the Joker. Rachel would be a personal loss, a piece of all our lives ripped away, but Harvey would be a city-wide loss. He had been the district attorney for hardly anytime at all, but he had already begun to affect the city in ways it would see for years to come and there could only be more good work in his future. Gotham couldn't lose Harvey Dent. But I knew Bruce would be irrevocably scarred by the loss of Rachel and that worried me far more than the fate of my city if the White Knight of Gotham was lost.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, the Batpod slowed and the noise of the tires was replaced by the pounding of Batman's boots running into the building and the slam of metal on brick as he busted inside; I could picture doors slamming and jambs breaking, much to the bane of whomever owned the building or had to maintain it, if it wasn't abandoned. That area of Gotham was ripe with the empty carcasses of warehouses and office buildings and a few houses that had been taken over by the gangs and the drug users looking for a roof for a while, until the GCPD kicked them back onto the streets. I heard the staccato bursts of Batman's breath, the protests of another door and then the sharp inhalation of surprise. And then a brief second of more silence that was broken by the scream of someone who shouldn't have been there.

_"NO!"_

_"It's Dent," _Batman grunted over Dent's protests. I heard the anger, frustration, grief in his voice, but that was probably only because I was listening for it or because I knew it would be there. _"He's wired to oil drums and connected to a timer." _

"Is Rachel there?" I asked, even though I knew the answer. We'd been played.

_"No."_

I fell silent and then dropped back onto my stool, a marginal improvement over standing at the desk, my body suddenly too much weight to hold upright. My shoulders fell. I couldn't find any words—was there anything that could be said? I listened numbly as Bruce struggled to get Harvey out of the building and out of danger and I wonder, somewhere in my mind, if Gordon had gotten to Rachel in time, as I had no doubt she was wired to drums and a timer as well. I didn't like Rachel, but I didn't want her dead and I especially didn't want her murdered by some madman. I closed my eyes and resisted the urge to put my head down on the desk.

_"No, no, no," _Dent was saying. _"You weren't supposed to save me!"_

I heard a noise that may very well have been Batman grinding his teeth as he refused to answer. Then there was an explosion and a shriek, turning everything into static.

I was on my butt on the concrete floor and I didn't remember getting there. My cheeks were wet and my ears were buzzing. Alfred was standing, leaning on the desk, saying something repeatedly into the headset; I thought he might be yelling, but I couldn't hear anything beyond the drone in my ears, the constant note echoing through my brain. As I watched, he seemed to get whatever he was after and he settled back onto his stool for a second before he realized I was on the floor and knelt beside me.

"Ms. Black?"

About the fourth or fifth time he called my name, it made it through the noise and I turned to look at him, his fatherly face adorned with a warm smile and something very like relief in his eyes. "What happened?" I asked, surprised to find my voice rough and my throat a little dry, as if I had screamed or inhaled the smoke from the explosion.

"The building exploded. Dent was severely burned and is being rushed to the hospital. Master Bruce went to see if Ms. Dawes survived." Alfred's face fell as the last words left his mouth.

"We... should head back to the penthouse," I said after swallowing the sudden lump in my throat. "It's got to be getting close to dawn, and Bruce isn't going to be able to come here." I pushed myself to my feet and decided that focusing on business, on my job as Bruce's assistant, would be the best idea. If Rachel had survived, I was going to have appointments to move around—it was Monday... or was it Tuesday?—and if she hadn't... well, I was probably going to have appointments to move around for the next few days. Rachel wasn't a huge part of my life, but she was a huge part of Bruce's life and things would change drastically if she was gone; I couldn't dwell on that. I wiped my eyes against tears that stubbornly kept flowing.

"Ms. Black, are you sure you wouldn't rather stay here?"

I paused in my gathering of my things. "No. I'll be needed in the real world today." As if to confirm that statement, I pulled the headset from my head, untangling it from my hair and set it on top of the radio, catching sight of the time as I did so. It was five o'clock in the morning, but I didn't feel tired, or at least not the kind of tried that could be helped by going to bed. "You can head to the penthouse, Alfred. I'll meet you there after I've cleaned up."

"Very well Ms. Black."

I remained still until the lift had clicked into the ceiling behind me. As the silence closed around me, the high-pitched buzzing that had followed the explosion returned and I sat down in the chair and squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my hands over my ears trying to get away from that noise. I had a recurring image of Batman being blow backwards as Dent was engulfed in flames on the ground; I could imagine the smell of burning flesh mingled with diesel and burning wood and brick and dust. I knew Bruce and Harvey had survived the explosion, but I couldn't even imagine having been involved in one.

After a few moments, the drone subsided. I wiped my cheeks one final time and got to my feet and finished gathering my things. Without knowing how long I would be topside—it likely wouldn't be that long, but I couldn't guess—I packed my bag to take with me and then organized the desk somewhat. I don't know how well I did since my head was elsewhere, but I felt a little better with the desk surface uncluttered. When that was completed, I grabbed my bag and located both my flip-flops and then left the bunker, finding my car exactly where I'd left it, with a fresh thermos of coffee in the cup holder. I said a silent thank you to Alfred and drank a cup and a half before I started the car and started across the relatively city, meeting hardly any traffic until I was downtown. The only thought I could focus on as I drove was that I had really drank coffee at all until I'd started hanging around Bruce more and more.

As the elevator ascended towards the penthouse, I began to feel heavy, even with the caffeine thundering through my veins and keeping me in that tense/alert state only coffee could create. I had a nagging feeling in my gut that told me I wasn't going to run into good news at the top of the building. For the first time since Bruce had moved into the penthouse, I didn't want to be there, I didn't want to have to deal with what was waiting up there, and I knew how selfish I was being. But I didn't act on it. I kept the elevator going up and when the doors opened onto the main room, I stepped inside and tried to steal myself for what was waiting.

I had taken all of three steps into the penthouse when Alfred appeared from the kitchen. "Eleanor."

It was more that he'd used my first name that caught my attention, but it was the tone that told me everything I needed to know. Rachel hadn't survived. I felt a little nauseous, my knees a little weak. "Where is he?" I gasped.

"Upstairs in the living room."

I all but ran up the stairs to the corner where Bruce was.

He was sitting in one of the chairs that had been arranged in front of a television, but he was staring out the window, his face reflecting the bluish tinge the dawn had brought to Gotham. The plates of armour that made up the cowl and gloves were scattered on the floor behind the chair as if he'd pulled them off before dropping into the chair; the cowl was a little farther away, as if it had been kicked or tossed. I stepped carefully over the pieces of the costume and stood in front of the chair, not close enough to touch Bruce, but still fairly close. His face was tight with the emotions he was holding back, but both his hands were balled into fists, the skin mottled red and white. He radiated grief and anger.

I didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry" seemed inadequate and Bruce probably wouldn't buy it. He would never believe I wished her dead or wanted her dead, but he wouldn't believe I was sorry she was gone. What else was there to say? Could I qualify that "sorry"? My breath caught in my throat when Bruce looked up at me and I saw the grief in his eyes and I crouched in front of the chair so I could take his hand; he didn't pull away, so I took his other hand and squeezed. Tears started to sting the back of my eyes as I held his gaze. I loved him and he was hurting and I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. For several minutes, I just held his hands and his gaze and let my knees and thighs burn with the pain of crouching.

Eventually, some words came to me. "I'm sorry she died, Bruce," I whispered lamely. Apparently qualifying that sorry was the best I could do.

Something in his face changed and I thought he was going to yell at me. His hazel eyes darkened with anger and his lips pressed into a thin line. I opened my mouth to say something else, but Bruce cut me off. "I know," he breathed. His voice was tight and full of the emotion he wouldn't show on his face.

I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying and rose to my feet so I could lean forward and hug him. It was an awkward position, but it served. "I'll be in the kitchen with Alfred if you need me, okay?"

Bruce nodded and caught my hand as I walked away. He squeezed it and then let it go.

* * *

In the kitchen, Alfred was at the stove cooking breakfast. I leaned on the counter near enough to talk but not close enough to be in the way and crossed my arms over my chest and finally let the emotion well up and fall silently. I watched Alfred as I cried and wondered how the old man could be so awake at six in the morning, after suffering the loss of someone I knew he cared about deeply, and moving around quickly and assuredly. Even as the thought finished, I realized it was because he had to. Like I had to work—staring in an hour. Who the hell in the business world of Wayne Enterprises was going to be awake and functioning at six in the morning?—he had to work and his work was taking care of Bruce. I pulled my eyes from the butler and let them wander around the kitchen, finally coming to rest on the tray which Alfred would serve Bruce breakfast on and a small white envelope with Bruce's name written in a familiar hand on the front.

I crossed the small kitchen and wiped my cheeks on the back of my hand. My eyes seemed to be permanently set to leak. I picked up the envelope, found it unsealed and seriously considered reading it, even going so far as to finger the envelope flap, and I probably would have if Alfred hadn't said, "Ms. Black, that is not for you to read."

I dropped the letter back on the tray, tiny flame of curiosity extinguished. "What happened after the building exploded?" I asked as I turned around and found Alfred putting food on three plates.

"Mr. Dent was taken to the hospital and is in critical condition, although I understand he is stable. When Master Bruce went to see him early this morning, he said the left half of his face and his left shoulder were bandaged and he was asleep, although he was refusing sedation." Alfred finished serving the food and placed the dishes in the sink and then set about preparing the tray to take to Bruce. Like his work, the task of informing Eleanor seemed to occupy his mind. "Master Bruce retrieved the coin Mr. Dent was so fond of from the site of the second explosion and took it to the hospital."

"Has he just been sitting there since he got back?"

"Ms. Black, why are you in here and not out there with Master Bruce?"

I turned to look at Alfred and started fiddling with the ring on my thumb. "I... I don't know what to say, Alfred. I don't know how to handle this. I... I don't know what I can do for him."

Alfred stepped closer to me and wiped his hands on a towel as he said, "I think your presence will be enough to help, Eleanor." He picked up the tray from the counter beside me and headed back to the living room. I followed close behind, a plate of food in my hands and racking my brain for something that could be done to help Bruce.

I settled myself in the other chair in front of the television as Bruce contemplated his breakfast and I picked at mine; I didn't have much of an appetite and I was pretty sure Bruce didn't have one at all. After finishing what I could stomach I placed the plate on the table and slid the chair closer to Bruce so I could place a hand on his arm while I pulled my knees to my chest and curled into the corner. The silence stretched on, but this time it didn't bother me; this time it didn't make me want to scream. This time, it was comforting. I watched the steam curl away from Bruce's food as I rubbed my thumb back and forth on the tri-weave suit on Bruce's arm. Bruce remained still for a very long time, but at some point, he shifted his arm and grabbed my hand and held on tightly, like I was a tether of some sort, an anchor.

"This was my fault," Bruce whispered, his voice cracking slightly with disuse.

I turned my head rather sharply so I could look at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Rachel." His voice hitched at her name. "I brought this on her. She died because she knew me, knew Batman."

"Bruce—"

His eyes narrowed, but he wasn't mad at me, I could see that. I tightened my grip on his hand because it was all I would really be able to do, even as he said, "This is my fault, Eleanor. If she hadn't known me, if the Joker hadn't been able to link her to Batman, she would be safe, she would be alive—"

"_Bruce_," I said a little more forcibly, in order to get his attention. "You don't know that; you can't. The Joker could have targeted her because of her connection to Harvey. He's an important man in Gotham without your help. Hell, she could have been targeted because she's an important woman in Gotham." I leaned over the arm of my chair, still holding Bruce's hand, putting my face close enough so that he'd have to look at me or climb out of the chair and I knew he wasn't going anywhere yet. "The point is, you can't blame yourself." I slid out of the chair and walked across the room to stand in front of the window, holding onto Bruce's hand until the very last second. My eyes slid over the city, slowly waking beneath the penthouse and I felt the emotion welling inside agian, clogging my throat and burning my eyes, but I didn't let the tears fall. "It's not your fault, Bruce," I said, my voice quieter than before. "It's not your fault." When there was no response, I turned around and stared at Bruce.

And I saw, in that moment, how broken he really was.

When he felt my eyes on him however, his spine straightened slightly and his walls went up.

I sighed and pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. There was part of me that was glad Bruce and I weren't fighting, but there was a part of me that wanted him to yell so I could yell back—_that _was normal. I didn't get nervous or uncomfortable around Bruce anymore, but one thing I did do was argue and yell, one thing we did was argue and yell. I knew how to yell at him, I knew how to function when our voices were raised. Hell, I would even be doing better if this scene was taking place in the bunker, somewhere I was comfortable. The bunker was a place where nothing was hidden, and it had become, in a weird way, our place. The penthouse was none of those things and the silence up here was unsettling.

"What's the plan?" I asked in an attempt to get him talking. Maybe, like Alfred and I, he would be able to function better if he focused on work.

It took many more minutes of silence. I watched Bruce remain completely still—how the hell did he do that?—and I watched the room get brighter as the sun finally made it over the top of the buildings around the penthouse. I did my best to remain still as well, but I, evidently, was much more impatient than Bruce and began pacing.

About the time I was making my third circuit, Bruce shifted in his chair and then said, "Find him and stop him."

"That's still the plan?"

"That's still the plan."

I looked at Bruce again, eyes narrowed slightly. I was searching for something and I wasn't sure what it was, but his eyes were dark and hollow and empty of anything except anger. "What about that project you have R and D working on at Wayne Enterprises?" I asked, deciding then was the right moment to divulge the information I'd found when I had unpacked the bunker after Bruce nearly revealed his secret: a folder, tucked away beneath a stack of order forms from the materials needed for the first Batsuit, a folder that held only a few sheets of paper detailing, in Bruce's handwriting, the specs for a construct based off the sonar technology Lucius had developed. I hadn't said anything about it, hadn't even given it much thought, because I had known it would come to the forefront eventually and there was no need to interrogate Bruce about a project when I could already guess what it did. "You're going to use that to find the Joker, aren't you?"

"You found the file."

"Yeah, I did. Putting aside the potential moral consequences that could arise from it, you were planning on using it to find the Joker, right?"

Bruce nodded.

"Is it finished?"

"I haven't checked—Eleanor, could you please just leave me alone?"

I sighed and pushed myself away from the window, where I'd once against ended up, and started towards the stairs, stopping in front of Bruce only to give him another long look. "I'll be downstairs if you need me," I said, letting my hand rest on his shoulder as I passed.

As my fingertips lifted from the smooth plate of armour, Bruce grabbed my hand, holding me still. He pulled me back towards him as he rose to his feet. His eyes were still angry, but there was heaviness to his face that told me he was letting me see what he was really feeling. He was broken and I understood that—he had just lost the woman he loved, the woman he thought he was going to end up with. I didn't like it, but I loved him and I didn't like seeing that pained look on his face, so I stepped into him and wrapped my arms around his neck, surprised but pleased when he returned the hug and sucked in a deep breath as he pressed his face into my hair. For one moment, I thought he was going to cry—I don't know what I would have done then—but he didn't, so I leaned into the embrace and cried for him.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

Okay, so I'm not sure about this chapter. There are things I really like about it, but some other things that I don't know about, but then again, my brain is somewhere in space with Battlestar Galactica, so pulling it down to Gotham level was a little difficult. Reading Bruce Wayne: The Road Home helped a lot though, but more so, I want to write the one-shot that I've got planned to go along with that. But I'm muscling through to the end on this one.

Sorry too that this chapter is a little shorter, but I couldn't push it any farther without bringing in things I didn't want to. Eleanor hasn't been overly vocal with me lately, so I just let it lie instead of forcing the issue. Hopefully this is still a chapter worthy of your time.

School's picking up with essays and assignments and stuff, so I might not be updating as much anymore and the numbers have already dropped. Also, I've been working more on my original fiction, but I'll keep a tendril in fanfiction and I'll keep trying to update as regularly as I can, promise.

Enjoy.

**Next Chapter: Chaos.**


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Chaos

I do not own **Batman**. Sucks, don't it? I do own Eleanor Black and all the other characters and plot points that aren't part of the movie. Rated T for the same reasons the movie was rated PG-13. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chances Are…  
**Chapter Fourteen: Chaos.

* * *

The morning remained tense and uncomfortable. Granted, I spent most of it moving about the penthouse, cleaning up Master Bruce's untouched breakfast and Ms. Black's barely touched food and wondering how long the silence would last; it may have been a characteristic state for Master Wayne, but I had never heard Eleanor silent for so long. As the penthouse brightened, Eleanor, eyes red-rimmed and slightly puffy with the tears just drying on her cheeks, joined me in the kitchen, her shoulders tight as she insisted on drying the dishes I had just washed and returning them to their rightful places on the shelves. She did not offer any conversation and I did not press—I had spent enough hours around the young woman to know that she would talk when she was ready and that she did not take kindly to prying questions. Her mind was still out in the living area with Bruce.

"Alfred," she said after a while, her voice thin and shaking slightly. I turned my face towards her and she took the action as the invitation to continue it was. "What... what's going to happen now?"

It was an interesting question. She, of course, did not mean what was going to happen in a chronological fashion; she meant what was going to happen with Master Bruce. Would he continue his vigilant crusade against the crime of Gotham or would he give it up as Rachel had wanted? The former option was far more likely—indeed, Bruce would probably see it as the only possible option as he would not see the possibility for a normal life now that Ms. Dawes had passed on—and I knew it was the one Eleanor wanted to hear. At times, her devotion to Bruce's alter-ego was alarmingly intense, but he needed someone like Eleanor in his inner circle, someone to reinforce his choices and, even though I had witnessed their arguments about nearly everything, someone to support him. "I suspect the Batman will remain, Ms. Black. Will you do the same?"

The question got the reaction I had expected—a long and slightly dark look; it seemed Eleanor was picking up Master Bruce's skill for glaring. "Of course, Alfred. Where the hell would I go? What would I do?" She dropped her chin to her chest and stared at the dish towel in her hands as she sighed. "I've made this my life. I probably would have fought to stay Bruce's assistant even if Rachel had... survived."

"I have no doubt of that."

I retrieved the towel from Eleanor and hung it over the oven's door handle, neatly folded, to dry. Eleanor hovered around the kitchen for a few moments longer before heading off in the direction of the guest bedroom, likely to change and get ready for the day ahead, a day to be spent on the phone, rearranging the appointments Bruce would not be going to for at least the next couple days. After making sure the kitchen was in its proper order, I headed to the living area where I found Bruce still seated in the same chair, although the Batsuit had been replaced with one of his navy blue business suits and he had taken steps to clean himself up.

"Alfred?" he said.

"Yes, Master Wayne?"

"Did I bring this on her? I thought I would inspire good, not madness... But first there were the imposters, and now this..."

I frowned at Bruce. "You have inspired good, Master Bruce. But you spat in the face of Gotham's criminals—didn't you think that there might be casualties?" This was not a happy reply, but I knew the young man in front of me had to hear it, even if I did not wish to see the hurt on his face. "Things were always going to have to get worse before they go better."

"But Rachel, Alfred."

I had a moment where I didn't see a grown Bruce Wayne sitting in that chair in front of me; I saw the eight year old who had just witnessed his parents' murder and endured their funeral. I saw the little boy who was broken, lost and afraid and, not for the first time, I saw the path that had led my charge to don the cowl of the Batman and take on his endless quest to fight the evil of Gotham. "Rachel believed in what you stood for. What _we _stand for." He looked up at me, his face full of all the grief that little boy had possessed, but I knew he got my meaning—Rachel may have been gone, but there were still those that would stand by him. I would not leave and neither, as it turned out, would Eleanor. I hoped Bruce knew that. "Gotham needs you," I said, echoing her passionate argument when Bruce had almost had turned himself in.

"Gotham needs its hero, and I like him get blown half to hell—"

"Which is why, for now, they'll have to make do with you."

I left him with that thought as the phone rang and I moved to the master bedroom to answer it. "Wayne residence."

_"Alfred," _Eleanor said, her voice rather panicky. I had not even realized she'd left the penthouse. It was unlike her not to let someone know when she left. I chalked the slightly off behaviour to the very off situation.

"What is it Ms. Black?"

_"You've got to turn on the TV—get Bruce to watch. There was a message on my phone this morning, from Lucius. He said that Reese hadn't returned the files he had that proved Bruce is Batman. Apparently, he's going to the news—he told one of the secretaries that he knew who Batman was and he was going to reveal him on TV. She thought he was crazy and she told Lucius that she thought he should be fired—she's right, that little shithead should be fired—"_

Not unaccustomed to the language Eleanor had command of when she was angry, I was still a little taken back by the anger in her voice. "Ms. Black."

_"Sorry Alfred. Just get Bruce to watch. I'm on my way to the bunker."_

"I will make sure he sees the news, Ms. Black. I imagine I will be joining you in the bunker shortly." I heard the line click dead and was not at all surprised to not receive a goodbye—it was a habit she was picking up from Bruce. Master Wayne was still sitting where I had left him. "Ms. Black just called with some distressing news about Mr. Reese. I suggest you turn on the news."

Bruce obliged, his eyes widening only slightly when he saw the red-headed corporate lawyer sitting beside Mike Engle, his hands folded around a folder in his lap—no doubt the documents he had failed to return to Wayne Enterprises—and his eyes darting quickly back and forth. He was afraid, but there was a light in his eyes that said he was convinced he was doing the right thing and he was going to go through with it regardless of what happened. The camera went back to Engle and it was impossible to tell what he was feeling as his reporter's mask was on, much the same as Master Bruce's mask was in place as he watched, except for the anger edging into his eyes.

_"He's a credible source—an A and M lawyer from a prestigious consultancy. He says he's waiting as long as he can for the Batman to do the right thing, and now he's taking matters into his own hands. We'll be live at five with the true identity of the Batman. Stay with us." _

The feed switched to a few commercials and Bruce settled back in his chair. I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes as he tried to figure out how to handle this situation without revealing himself as Batman.

Before anything could be said, Engle was back on screen and began taking calls, as I assumed they would be all day, up until the final reveal during prime time; there would also likely be specials on speculations of the identity and other trivial bits of information to keep the viewers interested until five. I half-expected to hear Eleanor's voice over the speaker, yelling her hatred for what Reese was doing, but she was smarter than that. She knew there were obvious connections between herself and Bruce and knew that many of Gotham's intelligent citizens would begin to suspect Bruce if she so vehemently defended Batman; even if she did not give her name, that would not prevent everyone from identifying her. Not to mention the questions she would draw to herself about her devotion to the Batman.

The current caller sounded convinced this was a set-up of some sort. _"I want to know how much money they're going to pay you to say who Batman really is." _

Reese looked surprised by the idea that not everyone was taking him seriously. "That's not why I'm doing this," he muttered.

Engle gazed at his guest for a moment before turning his face back towards the camera. He pressed something on the desk in front of him and said, "Next caller, you're on the air."

_"Harvey Dent didn't want Batman to give into this maniac—you think you know better than him?" _

The blond anchor looked genuinely surprised by this comment. He once again turned to his guest, but this time he didn't turn away. He said, "The guy has a point, Mr. Reese. Dent didn't want Batman to give himself in. Is this the right thing to do? Should we give into the Joker's demands?"

"If we could talk to Dent now," Coleman began—his voice a little stronger than before. Apparently he had found his resolve. "He might feel differently—"

"And we wish him a speedy recovery. God knows we need him now." Engle pressed the button on his desk again. "Let's take another call."

At first, it appeared to be an old lady speaking, but there was something off about her voice. Master Bruce and I shared a look that said we were both thinking the same thing—it was the Joker.

_"Mr. Reese, what's more valuable: one life or a hundred?" _

Master Bruce was on his feet, shoulder tense and face shifting to the greatly dissatisfied one that Batman wore.

Back on the screen, Mr. Reese was already looking shaken. Face pale, he answered the creepy voice: "I guess it would depend on the life."

_"Okay, let's say it's your life. Is it worth more than the lives of several hundred others?"_

"Of course not!"

_"I'm glad you feel that way, because I've put a bomb in one of the city's hospitals. It's going to go off in sixty minutes unless someone kills you."_

Engle leaned forward, eyes narrowed as he began to suspect who was actually on the other end of the line. "Who is this?" he asked.

_"Just a regular citizen and a regular guy," _the Joker said, his voice dropping to its normal and very recognizable tone.

The Joker rattled on—some blather about a vision he had had for his reign of terror in Gotham and skewed ideals of what was right and what was noble—but I did not hear most of it. Master Bruce was up and moving, a look on his face that said he was fully in the Batman's state of mind. I watched as he paced, ready to act on whatever his orders may be, and when he started towards the stairs, doubtlessly on the way to the elevator, I followed, sensing now would be when I joined Ms. Black in the bunker.

"I need you and Eleanor plugged in, checking Gordon's men and their families."

I was not surprised that I was not to be checking Gordon, but I was surprised at the amount of trust that the omission of his name showed. Gordon had been involved in the investigation after Bruce's parents had been murdered and he had been the only one Bruce reached out to at the beginning of his turn as Batman. Gordon was a good police officer, a moral and true man and it had earned him the Batman's trust and friendship. "What are Ms. Black and I to be looking for?"

"Hospital admissions."

"Will you be taking the Batpod sir?"

"In the middle of the day Alfred?" Bruce asked, a small smile twitching one corner of his mouth; I was glad to see that at least some measure of humour had reappeared. "Not very subtle."

"The Lamborghini then?" Master Bruce gave me a small, rather enigmatic smile as the elevator doors closed. "Must more subtle..." I muttered. While waiting for the private elevator to return, I made my way to the kitchen and retrieved the phone, dialling the number for Eleanor's cell as I checked that the penthouse was in proper order.

_"Do we have orders?" _Eleanor asked in such a way that I knew she'd watched the coverage of the Joker's phone call.

"Yes. We are to investigate the backgrounds of Commissioner Gordon's men looking for hospital admissions, anyone who might have a vested interest in keeping all of Gotham's hospitals intact."

_"Interesting how Gordon isn't on that list. Ah, that's to be expected, I suppose." _Eleanor paused and I heard a sloshing that might have been water or coffee. _"Does anyone really think the Joker won't blow up a hospital? Even if someone offs Reese—which he deserves—"_

"Ms. Black."

_"Sorry again Alfred. I'll start looking." _

"I will be there shortly."

* * *

I stared at the screen of my laptop—oh, how I loved that you could watch live TV on your computer now—in abject horror, the Joker's speech bouncing uselessly off my eardrums. I wasn't hearing a word of it. I was just horrified at the possibility of a hospital—possibly the one where my parents worked—would be blown up. There was a part of my brain that was screaming t me to grab my phone and call my Mom and my Dad and make sure they knew the danger, make sure they got out in time. It was, of course, a pointless effort as I knew they would both insist on staying to make sure the patients were all rescued before saving themselves.

_"I saw O'Brien and Richards."_

I snapped back into the present at Bruce's voice and ran the names through the computer—it was _weird_ doing Batman flunky work in the middle of the day. "Bruce," I said as I waited for the results, "what if he blows up the hospital my parents are in?"

_"They're smart people. They'll get out in time." _

It wasn't resounding as far as assurances go, but I wasn't really expecting anything brilliant. "I've got nothing on those two," I informed Bruce instead of barking about the lacklustre comfort. "No immediate family members in Gotham hospitals and no marks on their records."

_"They've got Reese in a police SUV and are heading north."_

Alfred entered the bunker at that moment and I gave him a small nod to let him know I'd seen him. He sat down on the stool beside me, managing, as he always did, to look like he was perfectly comfortable there, and plugged the other headset in. "Alfred's here now," I told Bruce because I knew he'd want to know. I waited for an increase in the volume of the ridiculously expensive car's engine to pass before asking, "Do you see anyone else on the scene?"

_"I saw Burns and Zachary and a patrolman I don't know." _

The butler's fingers input the information and a second later he said, "Burns is clean. Zachary..."

_"There's at least one I don't know. Send whatever information you two have gathered to Gordon." _

I took over that task while Alfred continued to look for information on the patrolmen. The noise of the Italian car's engine became a constant yet weirdly calming noise in the headset, thrumming through my head. It had been the same thing with the Tumbler before it was destroyed. I listened to the ebbs and flows of the noise as I told Bruce the information was sent and as I continued to relay names to the rather new commissioner of police. There was a sudden increase in the noise that made me jump. "What the hell was about?"

I didn't get an answer. What I got instead was a nasty crunching noise of metal and fibreglass and the dull thud of airbags deploying.

"BRUCE!" I yelled, but before I could hope for a response, Alfred pointed to the dead red light that said we were no longer connected through the computer in the car. I groaned. My worry turned to anger a few moments later however, when my phone began to vibrate, the screen displaying the picture I'd snapped of Bruce when he wasn't looking and his number. I picked it up. "Are you okay?" I asked in the most annoyed tone I could.

_"I'm fine, and so is Reese. A pickup truck decided to try and ram the police van."_

"And what? You decided jumping in front of it was a good idea? Idiot." I ignored Alfred's slight chuckling beside me.

_"Reese won't be a problem anymore," _he stated like that settled the matter. Maybe it did.

I huffed. "Fine. Now what?"

_"Tune into the police bands if you're not already and monitor the situation at the hospitals. The Joker will probably be targeting Gotham General since that's where Harvey is. Tell Alfred to pick me up at Wayne Enterprises." _

My insides turned cold.

_"Ellie," _Bruce whispered, the tone of his voice changing to the most sympathetic I think I'd ever heard direction at me; it was like he sensed my fear. _"Liam and Naomi will be fine." _

I nodded, managed to croak, "Okay." When the line clicked dead, I looked at Alfred. "He wants you to pick him up at Wayne Enterprises," I breathed, my fingers flexing slightly around the phone in my hand and my eyes drifting to the floor.

"Ms. Black?"

I looked back up at Alfred, saw the concern and worry in his face and felt the tears spring up and pour down my cheeks. Alfred knew where my parents worked, he knew the danger to them and that I was worried. "I'll be all right Alfred. I should stay here and keep an ear and eye on things. You guys will be back soon and I'm sure Bruce will have a plan to keep my busy. And I _know _my Mom will call as soon as she can."

"If you are sure."

I did my best to appear more stable than I felt. Alfred placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze before turning to the platform and disappearing into Gotham proper. I returned to the desk and dropped heavily onto the stool, the computer screen light suddenly seeming harsh against my eyes. I wiped away the tears that had fallen with the heels of my hands and then tried to focus on listening to the chatter on the police band, on watching the news, but my eyes kept drifting to the screen of my phone, placed on the desk beside the keyboard. It didn't start ringing while I stared at it and for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to dial the numbers of either of my parents' cells. What if they didn't answer? I didn't think I could handle that.

Just as the platform behind me began to drop, the phone rang.

I snatched it up quickly, beyond pleased to see my Mom's number emblazoned across the display screen. "Mom!"

_"Hi Ellie! Your father and I are perfectly fine; just a few scratches... Oh, well, your father got himself a nasty gash on his side because he insisted on running back and making sure everyone got out," _she said, her voice slightly chiding. I could tell she was very proud however, and relieved that her husband had been able to perform his heroic duty and survive. _"No need to worry dear." _

I exhaled a long breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "I won't worry anymore. Just make sure you and Dad get home and call me when you do, okay?"

_"Honey, is something wrong? Is there something else going on with this Joker we should know about?"_

"I don't know. I just know if you're at home, you'll be safe if something does happen."

_"Okay Ellie. We'll call you when we get home. Love you." _

"Love you too Mom." As I hung up the phone, I heaved another sigh of relief, this one fuelled by the feeling of Bruce's hand on my back, a reassurance that he too was okay after his collision. I turned and smiled a bit at him to show my relief, but the gesture faltered at the serious look on his face. "What?"

"The news."

I turned towards my laptop screen and brought up the news channel I had been watching before; at some point, the computer had gone into hibernation and the screen was black. The footage was of Engle, on a bus, holding cue cards or something and reading from them, his eyes full of fear and panic. The Joker's voice could be heard, echoing the words Engle was speaking, his voice mixed with the bone-chilling laugh the villain was capable of.

_"What does it take to make you people join in?" _Engle asked in a shaky voice. The Joker's voice slid over the next sentence. _"You failed to kill the lawyer. I've got to get you off the bench and into the game. So here it is." _Engle's eyes bulged slightly as he read the next words, but fear of the Joker and for his life kept him reading. _"Come nightfall, this city is mine, and anyone left here plays by my rules. If you don't want to be in the game, get out now."_ Engle broke then, a ragged sob tearing from his throat and though he tried to control it, the emotions were plain on his face.

I let out a whimper as the Joker, unhappy with Engle's display of emotion, grabbed the camera and whirled it around to point at himself, mirroring the way he'd delivered the call for Batman to reveal himself. Bruce's hand, which was on my shoulder, slid down to grab my hand. I was thankful for the contact.

_"But the bridge and tunnel crowd are in for a surprise," _the Joker cackled after staring at the screen for a moment, dark eyes narrowed and red slash of a mouth twisted in what passed for a grin.

I turned to look at Bruce as the news footage switched back to the anchors. He was already moving across the bunker, aimed for the Batsuit. Alfred was there, ready to help. "Bruce, where do you want me for this?" I asked, my voice thin.

"I want you to get out of the city, go to your parents'."

"I'm not leaving. I want to help."

Bruce didn't turn to look, just kept changing and ignoring the glare I was firing at his back. "Your parents' house is out of the city limits, it's off the main islands. You'll be safe there form any attacks."

"I'm not leaving the city!" I repeated, only raising my voice marginally.

Half-dressed, Bruce turned; it was the same fight we'd been having since I had started working for Batman. He looked ready to fight, but something in my face or some thought he had at the last moment made his expression drop. "Eleanor," he started, voice much quieter; Alfred, who had been about to hand Bruce the next section of the suit, was suddenly occupied with some of Batman's tools. "I just lost Rachel to this madman. I'm not going to lose you too."

I looked up at him, ready to argue more, but the weight of the loss of Rachel was back in his face and it broke all my resolve. In that moment, I wanted to agree, to tell him that I would go out to my parents' house, but I couldn't. I couldn't make that promise when I knew I wouldn't, or couldn't, keep it. "Bruce, I am not going to run away. I'll stay down here and monitor the situation—I'll stay down here and do _nothing_—but I'm not going to leave the city. You may need more help than just Alfred can give, and I'm going to be here to give you that help." I took a step closer to Bruce, aware of a ball of apprehension forming in my gut. "I'm not going anywhere."

A few moments of silence passed where Bruce just stared down at me and I returned the heavy gaze, intent on not backing down; I hadn't up until this point and I wasn't going to now. "Okay," he said eventually, drawing me into a hug, his arms wrapped around my shoulders.

It was the first fight I'd really won, but more than that, it was the first time Bruce had shown his complete trust in me. I returned the embrace, my arms wrapped around his chest. "Okay. Then where do you want me?"

He pulled away to finish donning the costume. "You've read the file on the sonar project. I want you at Wayne Enterprises, helping Lucius. Alfred can handle things down here. Get your things." Bruce turned back to face me and I was still standing there, a little dumfounded that I'd won the argument. "Let's go," he said before pulled the cowl over his face.

I threw my things back into my bag and followed Batman to the Batpod.

* * *

**Author's Note.**

Well Matt, I gave the other perspective thing a shot... Only because I could fit it into this chapter without compromising what I wanted to get across. How'd I do? Writing from Alfred's perspective was hard, especially because I've never done it, or even tried. I might try some more in next couple chapters, but this was as far as I was going to push it for now. I have an idea for a Gordon scene... But again, I won't be pushing it that far, probably.

It's just so much easier to write from Ellie's point of view.

And see my fanfiction-writers' liberty at work as I moved an entire conversation to fit my purposes?

Doing that felt weeeird.

I'm going to admit a faux pas. I couldn't remember if I'd ever said which hospital Liam and Naomi worked at, so for purposes of this story, they now work at Gotham General. And if it's different in my other Batman fiction, that's because those stories have nothing to do with the movie verse, m'kay? 'Kay, thanks. *stupid grin*

I couldn't remember if the Joker's video telling people to get out of Gotham came before or after the break-in at R&D at Wayne Enterprises, so I just went with before, because that's what was in my planning notes. Sorry if it's wrong and it bothers you, but since I'm writing most of this during class, I can't exactly go and watch the movie to double check, can I?

Anyways...

Enjoy! Only two chapters left!

**Next Chapter: Sonar, Like a B... Submarine.**


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Sonar

I do not own **Batman**. Sucks, don't it? I do own Eleanor Black and all the other characters and plot points that aren't part of the movie. Rated T for the same reasons the movie was rated PG-13. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chances Are…  
**Chapter Fifteen: Sonar Like A B... Submarine.

* * *

The Batpod was definitely _not_ made for passengers.

Showing the foresight I had rather come to expect, Bruce had made sure it was capable of holding someone else for emergency situations, but by no means was it comfortable or a ride that felt that particularly safe. But it served for a quick—and I do mean really, really quick as listening to it move did not do the speed of the Batpod justice—ride to Wayne Enterprises, during which I clung tightly to Bruce, my face pressed into his back and my teeth clenched so tightly together my jaw hurt. I kept my eyes closed and it took a moment for Batman to get me off the thing and to let go of him; I didn't think my bones would ever stop vibrating.

"I will never, ever, _ever_ get on that thing again," I informed Bruce as I marched passed him to the back entrance of Wayne Enterprises.

Batman didn't respond, but I could have sworn I saw his mouth twitch slightly. Instead, he just opened the door and led the way down the fluorescently-lit staircase, looking extraordinarily out of place and rather silly in the Batsuit and bright lights. Probably wisely, I kept my snicker to myself and watched as he broke into his own building. I followed him into Research and Development and across the cave-like room to an area that had been cleared to house a large piece of equipment. It was difficult to see in the dark, but it looked like an array of small screens set up on a slightly curved frame with a couple keyboards at waist height. As Batman went about checking things over, I examined the machine, severely impressed with the way Bruce had implemented Lucius' sonar technology in a much larger way. I wished we could turn the lights on, but I recognized the dramatic potential of the machine being revealed to Lucius as he walked into the room—and he would be down soon to check on the alarm that had been set off when we came in the back door of the department only accessible by very few people.

"This is... well, awesome," I told Bruce. "In the original sense of the word."

"Of course," Bruce muttered absently.

"I mean it. This is quite brilliant." I moved behind the machine and paused thoughtfully over the lack of tangled wires—there was only one thick cable trialing from the machine, all other wires wrapped around said cable neatly. If I had set something that complicated up, there would have been wires everywhere. Bruce had given me hell for making a knotted mess of the wires when I'd set up the computers in the Bunker and I spent that night untangling them while I listened on patrol. I wouldn't be so careless with plugs and wires ever again. "Did you do all this just to find the Joker?" I asked, partly for the answer and partly to get my mind back on track.

"Yes. I can't let him kill anyone else. I have to stop him."

I just nodded and resumed my examination of the machine, wondering what it would look like when it was turned on. As it so happened, I didn't have long to wait. Batman stopped moving suddenly and then grabbed my arm, pulling me to the back of the machine with him. We ended up standing so that we'd be visible through the middle of the array of screens—it would be a very dramatic entrance when Lucius walked in and the lights turned on. I leaned back into Bruce a bit, feeling the contours of the suit against my back. He placed a hand lightly on my back and I closed my eyes momentarily.

We had another moment of quiet and darkness before Lucius reached Research and Development and the lights started to come on. After a few banks however, the power diverted or something and instead of the lights coming on, the machine in front of me whirred to life, a low and comforting hum in the darkness. Lucius walked up the path of light and stopped in front of the sonar machine, his eyes only lingering for a brief moment on my face before moving somewhere above me to stare hard at Bruce, the look clearly asking what the hell was going on and what the hell he was looking at; even as I watched his reaction however, it dawned on him and his face went from curious to rather appalled. I suppose I couldn't blame him, but I still thought the thing was brilliant.

As I watched, Lucius' eyes pulled away from Batman's face above me and focused on the screens.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Batman asked, his voice making his chest vibrate against my back.

"Beautiful, unethical, dangerous..." I saw the muscles in Lucius' jaw clench. "You have taken my sonar concept and applied it to every phone in the city. With half the city feeding you sound and sonar, you can image all of Gotham..." His dark gaze returned to Batman, his face lined with frustration and the beginnings of what I thought was anger; I'd never seen Lucius angry before and I really didn't want to. "This is wrong."

At that moment, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I knew Bruce could hear it and Lucius might have been able to as well, but I didn't answer it. I slid my hand into my pocket and hit the button to ignore the call as discreetly as I could manage.

"I have to find him, Lucius."

"But at what cost? This is a mass invasion of privacy and not what you stand for or, what you stood for."

Ignoring the question and the insinuation that he had lost some of his morality, Batman continued explaining the machine to Lucius. "The database in null-key encrypted. It can only be accessed by one person."

My phone vibrated again. I had one of those hunches that told me the caller would be my Mom or Dad and I should probably take it. I slipped away from Batman, his hand lingering on my back as I moved. When I away from the conversation, I answered my phone. "Hello?"

Sure enough, it was my Dad who answered. _"Hey Ellie. Your Mom and I made it home all right, but it is crazy out there. Where are you?" _

Behind me, I heard Batman explaining that control of the machine rested solely in Lucius' hands. I ran the fingers of one hand back through my hair and wished I had a hair elastic to tie it back—this was going to be a long night. "I'm at Wayne Enterprises with Lucius and Bruce. We decided staying here was a better option than trying to run. Most of the staff is staying too, I believe." At least that wasn't a lie. I really didn't like lying to my parents, even when I had to. "We're not leaving until this is over."

_"Good. Your mother is worried about you, but I'll let her know you're safe. It's probably a good idea to stay there."_

I could hear it in my Dad's voice that he was worried about me to; I wanted nothing more in that moment than to hug him. "I wouldn't try and fight through the traffic on a normal day, Dad. This whole Joker thing is just... I'm scared. I'm not going to run out there when I have a perfectly safe place to hole up."

_"That's good to hear Ellie."_

"I'll call you if something comes up, okay?"

_"Okay. Love you Ellie." _

"Love you too Dad." I ended the call and slipped the phone back into the pocket of my jean shorts before taking a deep breath and heading back to rejoin Batman and Lucius, who were looking at each other with something like a challenge in their eyes. I stopped about a foot away from Bruce and opened my mouth to ask what the plan was, but closed it again when I realized the men were still in the middle of their conversation.

"As long as this machine is at Wayne Enterprises, I won't be."

I started. "What?"

"I will not spy on the city," Lucius said to me.

I frowned, but didn't press the issue. I didn't fight with Lucius. Sometimes I can curb my stubbornness. Instead, I turned to Bruce, the motion drawing his attention down to me. "What do you want me to do?" I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew the answer. I just wanted to dissolve some of the tension.

"Just help Lucius monitor the city. I've set up an audio sample for the system to compare voices to, and once you find him, I'll nee directions to get me there." He tapped the side of his cowl, and lenses descended over his eyes. "My cowl is connected to the machine wirelessly so I can see what you see." The lenses retracted. He looked over my head and Lucius and then back down at me, his hazel eyes nearly invisible in the combined shadows of the dark room and the edges of the cowl. "Eleanor, you have to stay here," he said, his voice quieter than it had been before. "No matter what happens." He held my gaze for a moment longer, a weight there that hadn't been a moment before.

"What..." I narrowed my eyes, but it wasn't a glare, not yet. "I'll stay here," I snapped. "But I'm not going to say 'no matter what' because that would be a lie," I whispered harshly.

Bruce didn't say anything else. Instead, he turned and headed towards the back door, his cape flapping out behind him. I huffed and crossed my arms, watching him go. The door banged shut behind him, but my eyes didn't leave the portal for another long moment. I felt Lucius' eyes on me and sighed again, turning sharply to join him in front of the sonar machine, knowing that he expected more information from me and also that I didn't have the information to give him. I kept my arms crossed under my chest and stared at the blue images flickering across the screen, waiting for them to make some sort of sense. It hurt to look at an image splayed across multiple screens. I hoped that I got used to it over the course of the night; not that I'd let it stop me from helping Batman.

"Eleanor."

"Yes Lucius?"

"What do you know about this machine?"

I sighed once more and unfolded my arms so I could use the keyboard and figure out how to fine tune the thing. "Probably no more than you do. What did he tell you while I was on the phone?"

"To trust him and to type in my name to turn it off."

"That seems like an odd command."

Lucius was silent as I got the images to align into a bird's eye view of Gotham—the technology really was remarkable. "It is an odd command. You don't know anything else about the machine?"

I shook my head and then ran one hand backwards through my hair, shoving it out of my face, but I kept my cobalt eyes on the screen in front of me. "No Lucius, I swear I don't, and I would tell you if I did." I finally looked up at the older African-American man and tried to smile. "I promise."

He nodded once and then went to work at the keyboard beside mine. "How is he doing?" he asked after a moment.

I didn't need to be a genius to know he was referring to Rachel's death and how it was affecting Bruce. Against my will, my mouth twisted into a grimace and my cheeks flushed slightly in anger. Talking about Rachel with anyone other than Bruce was liable to lead to bitter comments and some nasty words. I frowned at myself and focused on Bruce. "He's pushing through, focusing on work... I think it's the only way he can function. Losing Rachel changed him. It broke something else in him. He's not the same." I rubbed one hand over my eyes and squeezed them shut. "I guess what I'm getting at is I really don't know how he's doing, other than he's not letting it stop him from doing what has to be done."

"And clinging to what he has left." When I looked up at Lucius, he gave a barely perceptible shrug with one shoulder. "Okay, maybe 'clinging' wasn't the right word, Eleanor, but he appears to have become more outwardly protective of you."

My cheeks flushed again, but it wasn't anger this time. It wasn't even embarrassment. It was just someone else commenting on whatever passed for the relationship between Bruce and me. "Maybe," I muttered, turning back to the sonar machine. "You got anything on the Joker?"

I heard Lucius sigh, but he didn't press the topic. "Not yet," he answered.

I wasn't sure what it was about Lucius commenting on Bruce's behaviours towards me, but it made me uncomfortable. Possibly, it was because for so long, it had just been Bruce, Alfred and myself with no outside comments, but whatever it was, I fell back on the job we were supposed to be doing. The blue images on the screens were becoming easier to interpret the longer I stared at them, and I found it alarmingly easy to slip into a sort of trance as I listened to the voices and noises and tried to fit them into the images of Gotham in front of me. Lucius seemed to do the same beside me, and the topic of Bruce's wellbeing was dropped for the moment at least, which was welcome; I didn't really know how to talk to Lucius outside a business setting, no matter how much I liked him.

We perused the figurative streets of Gotham for another few minutes, picking up conversations about the chaos in the city and arguments about what should be done and discussions about the Joker and the declining state of Gotham City.

_"There's something going on on the ferries," _Batman's voice said, coming from somewhere on the machine.

Fox, who had a better grasp of how to navigate the machine than I did, brought up the map of the harbour, where two large boats were visible a short distance away from the docks. They weren't moving. "I'm zeroing in." The Joker's voice erupted over the speakers and I jumped; Lucius remained rather stoic. "His voice is on the ferries," he said, the tone of his voice indicating the words were more out-loud thoughts. "But that's not the source."

_"Do you have a location?"_

"Working on it," I interjected. Half the screens showed the city moving as I tracked the source of the Joker's broadcast—he was talking about killing everyone on those ferries, blowing them all up if one boat didn't do so to the other. I suppressed a shudder at the thought of all that death and wished silently that Bruce did not get on those ferries; since the Joker wasn't actually on either of the boats, I was sure this wish would come true. "I've got it—go west from the docks. Prewitt building, the one that's under construction by the river."

_"Got it. Plug in and you should be able to hear everything over the headsets." _

"Will do," I answered with a small smile. It was almost as if Bruce had expected me to be down here for this—damn it, that would mean I hadn't won the fight. Or, he could have put the headset down here for Lucius, which made more sense, but I wouldn't put that amount of foresight passed Bruce, and when I found two headsets instead of just one, my faith was reaffirmed. I pulled the headset over my hair and found the switch to connect it wirelessly to the machine. Instantly, I heard Batman's conversation with Gordon and I realized we were wired into the cowl and thus, the bunker and Alfred. Again, I was impressed. "We're plugged in," I said, once Lucius had followed my example.

_"I'm going after him. Gordon and the police will be on the building opposite the Prewitt building. I'm meeting them there." _

"We'll be watching."

Lucius realigned the screens and the darkness in which we were working was once again illuminated by a cacophony of lines that formed buildings and people. He brought up a view that allowed us to see the Prewitt building and the roof across the street, where a group of people were scattered; there were snipers lined up along the edge and a few standing farther back, one of which had a pair of binoculars pressed to his face. I was betting that was Gordon. After a moment of observation, another figure appeared, the flourish of cape telling me it was Batman—as if I hadn't known. I chuckled a bit as we watched him sneak up on the police to perform one of his sudden appearances. Lucius shot me a knowing grin and I caught a faint echo of laughter over the headset—Alfred.

But after that, all levity was gone. There was no room for jokes or laughter—everything was about getting Batman up to the top of the Prewitt building, around the police and the S.W.A.T. team to stop the Joker.

The police had identified that there were hostages in the building, all with guns aimed at their heads. But there was something odd about the arrangement, as the people wearing clown masks—the Joker's men—were standing right out in the open, like a shooting gallery. It was too easy—Batman saw it, Lucius and Alfred saw it, hell, even I saw it, and I knew Gordon could see it to, but with pressure on him to get this situation resolved as quickly as possible, he was anxious to get men in there. He was anxious to save Harvey Dent who had been lost in the kerfuffle at the hospital—how do you lose a person?—and who was likely somewhere in the building. I sympathized with Gordon, I really did, and I didn't want there to be any more bloodshed, but just rushing in would be stupid and I listed with a clenched jaw as Batman tried to relay that very thought to Gordon.

_"I've only got two minutes before the police come in," _Batman told us as he moved across the rooftop and prepared to enter the half-finished building. _"I need picture." _

Fox's able fingers flew across the keyboard, only one tiny screen displaying the commands he was imputing. "You've got P.O.V. on alpha channels, omni on beta... All systems are up and running." Fox brought up some information on another of the small screens—diagnostic information on the suit's systems.

"How do you know how to operate all this?" I asked, my curiosity finally getting the better of me.

"He's using programs that I developed a few years ago and used in the creation of the sonar phone device I developed for the Hong Kong operation," he answered with a small smile.

"Smart of him," I muttered as I turned back to the screens in front of me.

Lucius manipulated his half of screens to locate all the bodies in the building and kept Bruce informed of their movements as Batman moved upwards. I kept my screens showing what Batman could see through his specialized lenses and, uncharacteristically, I kept mostly quiet. The Joker's voice kept trickling in over the speakers and I was getting progressively more freaked out and worried; I kept my hands on my hips to keep from flexing my grip against the keyboard and potentially damaging a piece of machinery that I probably couldn't even begin to value in my mind.

I watched as Batman moved up the line of hostages and shooters and took the first clown down silently. As the body fell, Batman pulled the mask off.

_"It's Engle," _he said, frustration evident in his voice. Frustration at himself, at Gordon, at the Joker, I wasn't sure. _"The clowns are the hostages and the doctors are the Joker's men. There's no time to let the police know. The Joker's going to blow up the ships at midnight." _

I nodded as Bruce started running and taking the S.W.A.T. team members out of the picture in strange ways, tangling a rope around their legs as he did so. "They'll notice Engle. There's more police coming up. If you're going to go get the Joker, you've got to move now." I didn't get an answer, nor was I really expecting one in the middle of a fight. It was however, a tense wait, and I took the opportunity to walk a couple circuits around the sonar machine, taking long, slow and deep breaths. The Joker scared me and Bruce was a few minutes away from going toe-to-toe with the madman.

_"Ms. Black."_

"Yes Alfred?"

_"Did your parents arrive home all right?" _

A small smile broke across my lips. Alfred knew how I got when situations with Batman got tense and he had started talking to me about mundane things to keep me from having a full-blown panic attack. "Yes, they did. They were a little worried about what was going on, but they're outside of the city proper now, so they'll be safe. My Dad said he'd call if anything else came up."

_"That is good to hear. They were not injured in the explosion?"_

"Not severely. I think they were more shaken then anything," I said as I reached the front of the sonar machine again.

_"Will you be going to visit them after this is all over?"_

"I'll pop in for a short visit, but this work will never be over Alfred."

_"I fear you are all too right about that, Ms. Black."_

The line disconnected after that, which was fine with me. Alfred had managed to keep me from getting too worked up, which I needed as Bruce was now engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the Joker.

_"If we don't stop fighting," _the madman cackled, _"we're going to miss the fireworks."_

_"There won't be any fireworks," _Batman snarled.

I could hear them, but I couldn't see him. Batman's lenses seemed to have malfunctioned at some point during the fight, so the only images we had were ones from the outside sonar. Lucius brought those images across the screen and I found them, near the edge of a construction platform, close to falling off. As I watched, the clock stuck midnight, and everything just seemed to slow down, then stop, completely quiet. Would one of the ships pull the trigger?

There were no explosions.

_"What were you hoping to prove? That deep down, we're all as ugly as you?" _

I fought the urge to cheer as Batman only got stunned silence in response.

_"You're alone."_

The Joker seemed to have ignored what Batman said, as he sighed in an overdramatic fashion and said, _"You can't rely on anyone these days. You have to do everything yourself, and it's not always easy. Do you know how I got these scars?"_

_"No, but I know how you got these—"_

There was a metallic noise followed by the solid thump that could only have been the blades along Batman's bracers firing and finding purchase in the Joker's flesh. Sure enough, there was a strangled cry of pain followed by giggling. My eyes were glued the sonar images—it looked as if Batman had kicked the Joker over the edge of the building and he was falling. The rapid descent stopped suddenly and the form of the Joker started to move upwards, caught on the grappling line—Batman didn't kill.

_"You just couldn't let me go, could you?" _the Joker asked once he was back within speaking range. He sounded amused, if a little frustrated. I frowned, but didn't say anything._ "I guess this is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. You truly are incorruptible, aren't you?_" I threw some silent support behind Batman—I knew he was incorruptible, that nothing would be able to push him beyond the limits he set for himself—but still remained silent. It wouldn't do to distract him. _"You won't kill me out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness, and I won't kill you because you're just too much fun. We're going to do this forever." _The finality of the Joker's last statement was a little alarming.

_"You're going to be in a padded cell forever." _

_"Maybe we can share it. They'll need to double up, the rate this city's inhabitants are losing their minds," _the Joker replied with a sinister giggle.

I turned to Lucius and whispered, "What is he playing at? He's caught."

"If I was to guess Eleanor, I'd say he's trying to get Batman angry enough to kill him."

"Never going to happen."

Lucius didn't respond to that comment, although the shadow of disbelief on his face spoke volumes, more than words ever could.

_"This city just showed you it's full of people ready to believe in good," _Batman growled.

_"Until their spirits break completely—until they see what I did with the best of them." _The Joker laughed loudly, the expression ending in a slight cough. I hoped it hurt like a son of a bitch. _"You didn't really think I'd risk losing the battle for Gotham's soul in a fist fight with you?" _he asked, the dangerously amused tone back in his voice. _"You've got to have an ace in the hole. Mine's Harvey." _

My gasp was audible and loud in the relative emptiness of Research and Development. At the same time I asked the open air "What did he do?" Batman asked, _"What did you do?"_

_"I took Gotham's White Knight and brought him down to my level. It wasn't hard; madness is like gravity. All it takes is a little push." _

The Joker's laugh took over the channels for a moment, before Batman came back on. _"Find Harvey," _he demanded, voice full of anger now. Lucius set to the task immediately. _"Gordon's gone—he's probably gone after Harvey. If you can't find Dent, look for Gordon. We've got to find them, we've got to save Harvey, stop him from doing something that will destroy his life completely." _

"What if... what if he _has _gone mad?" I asked tentatively.

There was a long pause. _"We can only hope that he hasn't." _

"I found them," Lucius said, his voice guarded. "They're at 250 52nd Street."

_"Where Rachel died." _Bruce huffed, but the Batpod was already roaring to life and he was moving across the city at a breakneck pace. _"Did Gordon take any cops with him?" _

"Yes," Lucius said. "They've set up a perimeter around the warehouse."

_"Who else is inside with them?" _

"It looks like three other people. Maybe a woman and two kids?" Even as the words left my mouth, I knew who else was in that building. I closed my eyes. "He's got Gordon's family. Shit." I got silence in reply. I crouched in front of the machine, using the keyboard support to keep myself upright. "This was supposed to end with the Joker, this was supposed to be _over_..." I squeezed my eyes shut, tired to find some sense of the situation to cling to. There wasn't any. It was chaos, just like the Joker intended. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

"Eleanor, maybe you shouldn't listen to this."

"I have to," I mumbled. "I have to." With a deep breath, I pulled myself back up to my feet and stared at the blue and white images without actually seeing them.

I was able to focus just in time to hear Batman say, _"You don't want to hurt the boy, Harvey." _

Everything kind of went blurry after that, at the idea of a child being killed, at the idea of Gordon's son being shot by Harvey Dent. I wavered on my feet slightly, clung to the sonar machine to keep from toppling over. With a not inconsiderable effort, I managed to focus myself again and I found some resolve that allowed me to pay attention to the horrendously wrong scene unfolding on the screen in front of me.

_"The Joker chose me!" _Dent yelled, his voice sounding ragged, probably from smoke inhalation.

_"Because you were the best of us and he wanted to prove that even someone as good as you could fall," _Batman said.

_"Well he was right." _

_"But you're fooling yourself if you think you're letting chance decide. You're the one pointing the gun, Harvey, so point it at the people responsible. We all acted as one. Gordon, me, and you." _

_"Fair enough. You first." _

The figures on the screen showed little movement for a few brief seconds. But then a gunshot rang out, the noise echoing over the headsets, ringing in my mind, and Bruce collapsed to the ground on the screen, the resulting thud bringing a strangled cry from my lips.

Harvey had shot Batman.

He wasn't moving.

I gasped for air that wouldn't come and leaned heavily on the machine in front of me, Lucius' hands appearing on my shoulders, trying to keep me from falling over. He was saying something, but I couldn't make out what it was beyond the ringing in my ears, beyond the pain at the possibility of Bruce's death. The sonar machine continued to transmit what the microphones in the cowl were picking up, but I didn't hear it anymore than I heard what Lucius was saying. I wasn't listening for any of that. I was listening for any sign that Batman was okay.

_"I'm fine." _

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note.**

Okay, so that was kind of a weird spot to end the chapter, but it's better than the original place. There's just one more chapter left now, and I'll try and get it up soon so I can move on to other fics. This one has been around for far too long, considering its length...

Anyways, hope you enjoyed it!

**Next Chapter: The Dark Knight.**


	16. Chapter Sixteen: The Dark Knight

I do not own **Batman**. Sucks, don't it? I do own Eleanor Black and all the other characters and plot points that aren't part of the movie. Rated T for the same reasons the movie was rated PG-13. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chances Are…  
**Chapter Sixteen: The Dark Knight.

* * *

Once I knew Bruce was alive, I was gone.

I didn't care that he had told me to stay put; I didn't care that I could be in danger if I left Wayne Enterprises. The only thing on my mind in that moment was getting to the bunker as fast as I possibly could so I could be there when Bruce got back. I had to be there.

"Eleanor," Lucius called, stopping me on my way to elevator.

"What?"

The older man moved towards me, hand extended and a small and knowing grin on his lips. There were keys in his hand. "Take my car. You'll get there faster."

I gave Lucius a brilliant if impatient smile, a quick hug and breathed a thank you as I grabbed the keys and my bag—which I had almost forgotten—and ran. I jabbed the elevator button, but it didn't come fast enough so I took the stairs right to the parking garage, the smells of damp concrete and old motor oil hitting my nose as the door flung open; as it closed, the edge of the door caught my elbow painfully, but I didn't stop. The one-in-the-morning air was mild, but I barely paid it any mind as I continued at my pace across the level to where Lucius' black luxury sedan sat. I climbed behind the wheel and took off, faster than was legal, but not as fast as I felt was necessary to satisfy the impatience I was feeling; as I encountered hardly any traffic heading into the city, I was tempted to go faster but I refrained. Barely. I needed to be in that bunker and I needed to be there yesterday. I didn't need to be pulled over by some wayward cop for speeding. Yeah, I believed that could happen, even in the wake of the Joker disaster.

Showing his remarkable intuition, Alfred called a moment after I'd left Wayne Enterprises and put the headset on speaker so I could hear what was going on where Batman was. He said nothing beyond _"I thought you might want to have an ear on things, Ms. Black." _Oh, how right he was. I made a mental note to buy Alfred a present or clean for him one day or something, anything.

_"The Joker won," _Gordon was saying in a defeated voice. _"Harvey's prosecution, everything he fought for, everything Rachel died for... Undone. Everything we've gained; everything you helped Gotham get back dies with Harvey's reputation. People will lose all hope."_

I didn't know for sure what was going on, but I gathered that Dent was dead. Somehow, he had died. Or was severely injured. Or completely insane. In any case, the Harvey Dent who had been the district attorney of Gotham and had earned the title of Gotham's White Knight was dead and Gordon sounded hopeless, lost and worried about the fate of the city, his city. I wanted to offer words of encouragement, but knew I could not. For one, he had no idea who I was and for another, I was essentially eavesdropping on the conversation. I bit my lip as I drove, the highway turning into the side roads that would eventually lead me to the abandoned construction yard and the bunker.

_"No they won't," _Batman replied, his voice telling me he was in pain and fighting to appear strong. Something in my gut tightened. _"They can never know what he did. Gotham needs its true hero." _

_"You? You can't—"_

I picked up the meaning of the commissioner's words and what Batman was getting at. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Again, I had to fight the urge to drive faster.

_"Yes, I can. You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become a villain." _Bruce sucked in a deep and pained breath and I winced for him. Hearing his pain in his voice, even as minimal as it was, meant he was hurting pretty badly. _"I can do those things," _he said with a curious finality. _"I can do them because I'm not a hero like Dent. I killed those people. That's what I can be."_

"No!" Gordon and I expressed at the same time. _"You're not—" _the leader of the police protested at the same time I muttered my currently favoured expletive again and smacked the palms of my hands against the steering wheel.

_"I'm whatever Gotham needs me to be."_

I reached the lot at that point and parked the car haphazardly in front of the bunker and ran into the container, the doors already unlocked and the platform waiting for me. The ride down seemed longer than normal, much too long. I jumped off the moving section of floor before it had clicked into the ground, stumbling slightly as my feet hit the familiar floor and almost dropping my bag, but I didn't let it slow me down. I didn't stop until I'd reached the computer terminal. I dropped my bag on the floor—it tipped over and spilled the papers and devices and other junk that had accumulated over time out into a pile—and leaned on the desk, breathing heavily for reasons I wasn't particularly sure off beyond the adrenaline pumping through my system. Bruce wasn't back yet.

_"They'll hunt you."_

_"You'll hunt me. You'll condemn me, set the dogs on me, because that's what needs to happen." _

I grumbled unintelligibly at the machine expelling Bruce's voice and cursed some more; Alfred ignored my cursing well, but he was probably well used to it by now. My hands were balled into fists on the desk. I was scared, angry, worried... I wanted Bruce back at the bunker. I wanted this to be over.

_"Because sometimes the truth isn't good enough. Sometimes, people deserve more."_

There was a long, heavy pause in which I could imagine Batman and Gordon staring at each other, Bruce's eyes enigmatic behind the cowl. As the moment passed, I heard Bruce's boots hit the ground in an unsteady rhythm as he started to run away. He was limping. He was badly hurt. As he ran, I heard a young boy's voice—Gordon's son—voicing exactly what I was thinking, albeit using much cleaner words than I did.

_"Batman!" _And then a few seconds later, a pained shriek. _"But he didn't do anything wrong!"_

_Damn straight, kid... _

All other sounds drifted off after that and all that remained were the noises of Batman running, breathing heavily, of dogs barking and police chasing him. Bruce's breathing became more laboured and painful as he moved; it was almost too much to listen to. I dropped into the armchair, the excitement of the past couple minutes catching up and sucking the remainder of energy from my bones. My head dropped forward into my hands and squeezed my eyes shut. Catching the hint, Alfred reached over and turned the machine back to headset only and slipped the earphones over his ears so I wouldn't have to hear it anymore. At least not until I was ready.

* * *

I looked down at my son, standing there, watching Batman's silhouette disappear into the fog of the very early morning and sighed. James was confused, trying to process why the police had to chase Batman when he hadn't done anything wrong, when the vigilante had just saved his life, my life and the life of his mother and sister. Every emotion was plain on his young face. I sighed again and wished there was an easy way to explain the situation to him. Regardless, I knew he wouldn't lose his faith in Batman. Ever since he'd shown up, James had been a fan; I smiled a bit at that. James was many things, and he was especially loyal.

"Dad... Will you have to arrest Batman?" he asked in a small voice that still held notes of panic.

"It won't come to that, James." I wished I was half as confident in that statement as I sounded. I was pretty sure Batman would remain one step ahead of the police, but there was that chance he would not, that chance he would be arrested. As I thought about it, I realized I would find ways to keep that from happening, I would do my best to help Batman anyway I could inside the law.

"I don't understand why you're chasing him."

"I know, son. Come on. Let's go get your mother and sister and I'll take your guys home." I took my son's hand and we walked back towards the rickety staircase that led down from the platform where Dent had kept my family. I watched James run into his mother's arms, watched my daughter embrace her bother and start crying, but I didn't get to join the happy reunion, I didn't get to hold my family—I was pulled aside by a patrolman, who didn't look pleased. His face was streaked with water—I realized absently that it was now raining—and his eyes were narrowed. "What is it?" I asked gruffly. I wanted to go home and sleep, spend time with my family, but the chances of that happening were next to none.

"We lost Batman."

I had to fight the urge to smile. Of course they lost Batman. But I had to pretend to be frustrated. I sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. "Send a couple of squad cars out in the last direction you saw him go. Then send a couple in the opposite direction."

The patrolman frowned, deep lines creasing his face. "With all due respect sir, this sounds like a wild goose chase."

"Well do you have any better ideas? Of course it's a wild goose chase," I muttered. "Just do it. I'm going to take my family home and then I'll be back to deal with this."

Without waiting for any response, I turned and walked towards my family. I sighed again, this time for real. Tomorrow, starting early, there was going to be a lot to do. Press conferences about Harvey's death and Batman's apparent guilt, I'd have to take the Batsignal down to severe the connections between the police and the vigilante... There would be some heated discussion with Barbara to deal with, more explaining to do to my children. I didn't want to do any of it, but I would have to. I embraced Barbara and took comfort in that gesture. I picked up my daughter and led the way to my car, savouring the feel of my little girl in my arms. There were many things to do tomorrow, but for that moment and for the next couple hours, I was going to enjoy having my family alive and whole and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.

I hoped Batman could do the same.

* * *

What was Bruce thinking? Could Batman really take the heat for all that had Dent had done wrong? Could he handle the police and continue to fight the rising crime in Gotham? Would he survive this? _What _was he thinking? I sighed and climbed out the chair. Alfred slid the headset down to hang around his neck, his lined face taking on the concerned countenance that seemed to have become its norm for talking to me, especially when Bruce was in any sort of trouble.

"Ms. Black, are you all right?"

"I'm just a little panicked," I snapped sarcastically. "How are you so calm?"

"My years of experience with Master Bruce have prepared me for most the anxiety that comes with being Batman's butler, Ms. Black, and I am sure you will adjust to this as well. You have improved in the past few weeks." The last comment was meant to be a joke, something to lighten the mood with a hint of seriousness.

I gave Alfred a half-hearted smirk because I appreciated the attempt at lightening the mood. "I'm not sure that's such a good thing." I sighed again, crossed my arms, and started pacing back and forth in front of the desk, aware of Alfred's eyes tracking me as I did so. "Can he do this, Alfred?"

"I'm sure he has plans in place."

"You're right; I shouldn't worry so much."

But I didn't stop pacing, and I wouldn't until I knew Bruce was coming back. I for sure did not stop worrying. After several long moments, I grabbed the other headset and pulled it on. The roar of the Batpod's wheels filled my head and my bones gave an involuntary lurch in remembrance of my terrifying ride a few hours ago. For another long moment, I just listened, still pacing in front of the desk, hands on my hips, and though I was pretty sure Bruce could hear me and knew I was listening in addition to Alfred, he didn't say anything. It was one of those moments of silent comfort that we had experienced and it didn't matter that it was over a headset. I gave a small sigh of relief. He was still moving.

_"I'm almost there," _he said and I knew the words were meant for me.

I couldn't think of anything to say, but I nodded at the headset. Bruce's voice was full of pain. The knot of worry hardened in my gut because, for the first time, I wasn't certain that Bruce was going to come back okay. He'd been injured before, but something felt... different. He'd never been shot before, for one thing. I know Lucius said the suit should take most of the damage, but somehow, that wasn't very reassuring knowing that Bruce was wounded, was bleeding and was in pain. A small whimper escaped my lips as my thought ran rampant with all the worst that could happen.

The motor of the door covering the secret road whirred, cutting my thoughts off. I ran out from behind the desk and was stopped by the headset getting caught in my hair and pulling. I cursed, untangled it roughly and made it to the Batpod as it slid into its normal parking spot. Bruce stumbled as he climbed off the bike. He tried to remain upright. I ducked under his arm to catch his weight; it took every bit of strength I could muster to keep us from toppling to the floor. Somehow, I managed to get him across the bunker and onto the table Alfred had set up. There was a trail of blood droplets leading from the bunker's entrance to the table and one side of Bruce's armour was covered in the sticky and semi-dry substance; as I helped him walk, some of it rubbed off on my shirt and I ended up with a large brownish-red splotch on my side. Alfred set to work immediately, removing the plates of armour to see what exactly was wrong; I ran over and turned off the police scanner, the bunker falling into silence except for the low noises of whatever Alfred was doing and the startling noises Bruce was making. I moved back to the table and stood by Bruce's head.

"I used a local aesthetic but this is still going to hurt," Alfred said. "Talk to him, Eleanor."

I glanced down to where Alfred was attempting to dig the bullet out of Bruce's side—evidently the armour had slowed it down just enough for it to get embedded in his flesh and stop it from coming out the other side. There was blood everywhere. I gave a shaky sigh before turning to look at Bruce again. "Bruce," I said, leaning in. His hazel eyes locked onto mine and suddenly I didn't know what to say. Here he was, really relying on me for something for the first time, and I couldn't talk. I could feel my jaw moving up and down, but no words would come out. Suddenly, I was just glad to be looking at Bruce, glad to have him alive, if not well, glad that the Joker or Harvey hadn't been able to take him away from me. "Bruce," I said again, my voice just above a whisper.

"Ellie," he replied in a strained voice as he squeezed my hand, "you're going to have to come up with something more interesting than my name to keep me distracted." As if to prove his point, his face scrunched as he weathered another wave of pain.

I coughed a laugh against my better judgement and leaned in close again, brushing some of his sweat-dampened hair from his forehead. I grabbed his hand with my other one and squeezed it tightly. "Are you sure you know what you're doing? Getting Gordon and his men to hunt you instead of marring Harvey's reputation?" I almost asked him if he could handle it, but stopped myself just in time.

"I know what I'm doing." He sucked in a sharp breath, new beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. His hand tightened painfully on mine, but I didn't let go.

I grabbed the damp cloth Alfred had set out and wiped Bruce's forehead. "I'm sure you think you do." I shifted position so I could look directly down at Bruce while still holding his hand. I had to shove my hair back to keep it from dangling in his face. "You're going to get yourself killed," I informed him as if he didn't already know that possibility. My voice came out barely above a whisper.

"You don't have to stay and watch."

I snorted and smiled down at Bruce, now rather close. The pain in his face made the back of my eyes prickle with tears, but I knew I couldn't cry. I had to help by appearing as strong as I could. "Oh, like I'm going to let you do this by yourself. We've been over this _countless_ times before—I'm not going anywhere." Some of my reddish hair slipped over my shoulder, brushed across his bare chest. I shoved it back and re-plastered a smile on my face, my fingers lingering for a second on his cheek.

Bruce made a sputtering noise that could have been a laugh.

"Got it," Alfred said, the interjection of his voice into the conversation slightly startling.

Bruce grunted through clenched teeth and his hand tightened on mine again. I turned just my head and saw Alfred holding up what remained of the bullet between a pair of tweezers. I'd never seen a bullet after being shot. "It's small."

Alfred didn't respond with anything except a slight nod as he set the bullet into a small metal tray and then set about cleaning and bandaging the wound. Instead of immediately looking back at Bruce's face, I scanned the rest of his torso, taking stock of his injuries, eager to see if any of them required stitches. Already, his colour was returning. He looked marginally better. There were dark blue-purple bruises and minor lacerations from the hand-to-hand combat throughout the night, the worst of which I was sure came from the Joker, but all of those injuries were healing. However, a bruise on the side of his chest had turned reddish in the middle. I pointed it out to Alfred, who set about doing some sort of examination and leaving me to finish placing the thick bandage over the gunshot wound; I was pleased to see coagulation, because I may not have known much about medicine, but I knew when blood clotted around a wound, it was a good thing. Regardless of the healing wound, I managed to get blood on my hands.

I swallowed and wiped my hands on my jean shorts; if the blood didn't come out, it wasn't a big deal. They were just shorts, and I didn't want Bruce's blood on my hands. I moved to stand by Bruce's head again, focusing on that he was looking healthier.

"This is nothing to be concerned about, Ms. Black," Alfred said. "It is minor bleeding and should heal on its own by tomorrow night. Master Bruce has survived much worse."

"Okay," I said at the same time Bruce nodded. I looked down at him. He looked tired, but he gave me a small smile.

"You need to rest," Alfred said to his charge, before looking up at me, his light blue eyes exposing the relief he was feeling. He gave Bruce a couple of pills, which he swallowed without water. "If you take Master Bruce back to the penthouse, I will clean up here."

I watched Bruce's eyes close, but knew he wasn't asleep. "I have Lucius' car," I remembered.

"I will take Lucius' car back to him, Ms. Black."

"Okay."

While Alfred helped Bruce change and double-checked that none of his wounds were more serious than first thought, I cleaned up the contents of my bag, making a mental note to go through all the crap I'd collected so my bag didn't weigh fifty pounds. One of the things that had somehow worked its way into my bag was a picture of Bruce and me at some party, just standing there, talking and smiling. It was stupid, but something about the picture brought that prickly feeling in my eyes back and tears started streaming silently down my face. I sniffed and wiped my face before shoving the rest of my things back into my bag and walking over to where Bruce was now standing on his feet, looking at least a little more like himself than he had a few moments ago; the picture went into my pocket.

"Ms. Black, are you okay?" Alfred asked, picking up on my tears.

I nodded without thinking about it. "Just tired," I replied, going with the unintentional nod. There was no reason to tell them that I was overwhelmed and really just wanted to go bed.

Bruce grabbed my hand, but there was something in the gesture that said he was looking for physical support as well as giving me something to hold onto; that almost made me start crying again. "Let's go then," he said in a voice that wasn't any different than normal, except it was. It was missing something, some level of strength that was normally there. I chalked it up to the pills. We headed out of the bunker while Alfred started cleaning. When we reached whatever car it was the Alfred had brought that day, Bruce sat down on the back seat with the door open and looked up at me. "_Are _you okay?"

I blinked and looked at him. Those pills must have been extra strength, because he wasn't in the habit of asking if I was okay, or if anyone was okay. "Just get in," I said, kind of exasperated. I could feel the tears again.

Bruce obeyed, which was also weird. When Bruce and I finally reached the penthouse—about twenty minutes later, as there wasn't much traffic—it was clear just how worn out he was and I was positive that Alfred had given him a painkiller. It was almost as if he'd been bottling everything up inside while he chased the Joker and now that he had a moment to rest, he was letting everything get to him, letting it all weigh on him. The painkillers were only helping the repressed exhaustion come out. I sighed as I followed him upstairs, wondering how long he could continue like this, how long Batman could continue like this, before he destroyed himself.

He sat heavily on the bed, wincing slightly as something pulled. I dropped into the chair positioned beside the bed and stared at him. "I was scared," I said. "I thought Harvey killed you."

Bruce returned my persistent gaze, his hazel eyes oddly bright looking out from the dark circles around his eyes. There was something very Batmanish in the look, but it came as a comfort. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit—you're in pain. You almost died."

"I'll _be _fine," he amended.

I rolled my eyes and settled farther into the chair, pulling my legs up underneath me. I didn't look away from Bruce. I could tell he was debating telling me to go, to save my sanity or whatever, but he didn't say anything—I'd finally won that fight. A small smile slid across my lips. "Go to sleep." I closed my eyes and heard the bed shift as Bruce lay down. The chair suddenly became very comfortable and I felt I could sleep there for at least eight hours, something I hadn't achieved, in a long time, even in a very comfortable bed. "I'll stay here."

However, I was not in the chair when I awoke a couple hours later. It took me a minute to realize why I was lying on my side, but I was on Bruce's bed, and by the looks of the covers, I'd been there a while. My cobalt eyes found the bedside clock—four forty-five in the morning; I'd had about two hours of sleep. I looked beyond the bedside table to the chair where I'd begun the night, but there was no one there, and my bag was no longer on the floor where I'd left it. I strained my ears into the depths of the penthouse and heard someone moving, the slow shuffle of feet on carpet. I was inclined to believe the pills hadn't worked. As the only place in the penthouse with carpet was the "library", I pushed myself out of the bed and started heading in that direction.

I was halfway there when I realized I was still in my bloody clothes and the bedding was dusted with rust-coloured flakes of dried blood that had come off while I slept. Something about that bothered me greatly. It was Bruce's blood. I went down the short hallway and found my bag in the spare bedroom, found clean clothes of mine in the top drawer of the dresser. I changed into a baggy t-shirt and a pair of large flannel pants, washed my hands vigorously n the bathroom until the red tinge was gone, gathered the bloody clothes in my arms and returned to the bedroom where I gathered the sheets into my arms, yanking them quite viciously from the bed and rolled the whole lot into a ball and dropped it on the floor. I couldn't see anymore of the stains or blood dust. My hands were clean. I dropped to the ground with my legs splayed out in front of me and then lay back on the floor and heaved a sigh of relief. Two hours of sleep and a bit of cleanliness did wonders, apparently—I felt awake.

Bruce appeared standing above me. He looked better too, but he couldn't have had anymore sleep than me—he'd probably had less and he would be still addled by the painkillers. "What are you doing?"

"Cleaning," I answered without hesitation. "I didn't want to look at your blood on me anymore."

He sat down on the floor beside me, legs crossed underneath him. "I'm okay, Ellie."

"I know. You're indestructible—you're the goddamn Batman." I flashed Bruce the stupidest grin I could manage before I sat up and crossed my legs as I turned to face him, our knees almost touching. My smile turned genuine.

We stayed like that for a very long time, just sitting there in a private bubble of that comfortable silence. I had never heard the penthouse so quiet, but I couldn't recall ever having been in it at five in the morning when nothing else was going on, when there was no Batman issues to deal with and when there were no calls from Wayne Enterprises. It was weird, but it was nice, a moment of peace after the storm and before the next one began. I knew there would be another storm, another villain would come to Gotham and try and disrupt the city. But, as it began to rain and as the penthouse became a secluded box of bluish light behind water-streaked windows, I knew Batman would always be there to fight them and stop them and to protect Gotham.

It was his city—we were just living in it.

* * *

The news that morning was bleak.

After Alfred had awoken at five-thirty, taken the ball of bloody fabric away, and begun to make breakfast, Eleanor and I finally moved from the spot on the floor. It had felt good to sit there with her, in the silence and the clam, to know that she would be there for as long as I needed her, but it hadn't felt so good to move. The gunshot wound pulled sharply when I pushed myself to my feet and my much-abused muscles screamed for rest I couldn't give. Eleanor had stood less than two feet away while I waited for the pain to pass, just managing to hold herself back from running to my aid. It only took a second, but then I was ready to walk away. We moved into the living area, where we had sat after Rachel's death. Eleanor turned on the television, going immediately to the news—some things never change—and had found Gordon, standing in a very grey room, behind a podium, staring down at the cacophony of microphones arrayed in front of him.

He was talking about Harvey's death, forcing himself to accuse Batman for the district attorney's death and for the deaths of those he'd killed. I saw him swallow hard and then go on to say that the Batman was now public enemy number one and anyone with any information about the vigilante was to come forth at once so the Gotham PD could put an end to the threat he posed as soon as possible.

During the press conference, Eleanor turned to look at me several times, no doubt looking for any sort of reaction. Alfred brought breakfast out and settled himself in the last empty chair to join us. But there were still no words exchanged.

_"Harvey will be greatly missed,"_ Gordon was saying.

_"What are you doing to stop the Batman?" _one of the reporters bellowed.

Gordon sighed heavily, adjusted his glasses as he gathered his thoughts. When he looked back up at the camera, his face was set in a mask of frustration and anger—he was feeding his feelings towards the whole situation towards Batman, to what the press and the people wanted him to be angry at. _"We have heightened patrols in the areas Batman was last spotted and we've created a special task force consisting of officers who have worked with the Batman and we are consulting with various experts to try and determine what else can be done. The so-called Batsignal has been destroyed as symbol of the severed contact between the GCPD and the Batman, and to send a message to him that his actions will no longer be tolerated." _

_"What about all the good he's done?" _another reporter asked.

"Thank you, whoever you are," Eleanor muttered around her fork.

My mouth twitched in a small grin.

Again Gordon sighed. _"His actions against the criminals of Gotham do not cancel out the murders he has committed. We cannot support someone who operates outside the law and undermines the authority of the police." _

Eleanor looked at me again, a somewhat bitter grin on her lips. "I feel sorry for Gordon having to do this," she said.

I nodded, agreeing. Jim Gordon had done a lot to help Batman since I'd created the alter-ego and I did not feel good about putting him through this particular brand of torture. "I'll think of a way for Wayne Enterprises to donate something towards the hunt for Batman."

"You're going to help the police hunt you. Great." She flashed the brilliant and silly grin, a small chuckle escaping her lips.

"What better way to draw suspicion away from your nocturnal activities, Master Bruce."

"This just keeps getting better."

I couldn't help but smile.

* * *

I put the breakfast plates into the dishwasher and started the machine running, a quiet whir filling the kitchen. As I turned to grab the cloth and start wiping the counter, Alfred gave another small huff. "Ms. Black," he said, "You do not have to clean."

"Relax Alfred. I'm not going to get anymore sleep, so I might as well do something useful." I finished wiping the counters and draped the cloth over the edge of the sink—Alfred automatically moved to fold the cloth neatly—and leaned back against it, arms crossed under my chest. "Did Bruce get to sleep?" I asked as I grabbed an apple from the mysterious fruit bowl that was always mysteriously full.

Alfred nodded. "Lucius also informed me yesterday when I returned his car that he has postponed all meetings which required Master Bruce's attention."

"What did he give as the reason?" I took a bite of the apple and chewed as I ran the fingers of one hand back through my hair.

"That Master Bruce jetted off in the middle of the night for Europe."

I returned the smile Alfred gave me and even laughed a little. It was funny how normal things seemed to be, however temporary the reprieve was. Alfred set about making tea and once I had a cup in my hands, I left the butler in the kitchen and wandered back towards the stairs and then up to the more private area of the loft; most people didn't come up here beyond Bruce, Alfred and I. I was puzzling over what to do with the seemingly free day. I knew I would have to go get Blaze from my parents' house and take him for a nice, long walk, but what else? It was only seven. The city was just waking up, or just going to bed, beginning to recover from the Joker fiasco. I wasn't even entirely sure anything would be open today.

I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling walls of windows and stared out at Gotham, a small smile on my lips.

**

* * *

**

**Author's Note.**

So... spontaneous chapter title change!

Not like anyone cares, but whatever. You still get to know that I spontaneously changed the title of this chapter when I posted chapter fifteen. Don't you just love useless knowledge? You bet you do. Yeah, I just told you what you love. *devious grin*

Anyways, I'm going to rewrite/edit **Slow Dancing in a Burning Room**. Just so I can add in some things that developed while I was finishing this one. Read it if you want to and if you haven't already. No major plot changes will be made, I just want to add some more emotion.

Writing Gordon was haaard, but I thought I should give it a try, just as a closing section. Also, the last chapter was all from Eleanor's point of view, so I wanted to break it up a bit in this one. I've never written Gordon before, so I hope it's okay. I get a little squirmy when I write new characters that are already established and sometimes it doesn't come out well because I'm afraid to mess it up. I guess I just need to study the other characters as well as I've studied Batman.

Anyways, this is the end, there is no more. I will see you all again (in this Batverse) when the next movie comes out and I have plotted another story.

P.S. I was sad I couldn't feasibly fit Gordon's speech from the end of the movie into the fic. I love that speech.

**Next Chapter: There isn't one! It's done! It's finished! It has expired! It has ceased to exist! It is no more! It's gone to meet it's Maker!**

**... sorry, Monty Python reference.**


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